Up In The Air
by always-been-a-pirate
Summary: The airport is the last place best-selling author Killian Jones wanted to end up. Yet when a broken heart and a business class ticket lead him to a chance meeting with a fellow passenger named Emma Swan, he discovers that sometimes the flight you never wanted to take might land you exactly where you're supposed to be. Rated M for future chapters :]
1. Chapter 1

**Alright, here we go :] a new adventure awaits! All rights/characters belong to OUAT.**

* * *

The overhead announcement was loud and droning in his throbbing ears, the unbelievably annoying tone saying something about upcoming arrivals as he stared toward the curved metals beams of the ceiling. The lighting was harsh as he pulled off the sunglasses shielding his hangover and yanked his flight confirmation from the back pocket of his jeans. _Here we go again,_ he thought as he plodded in the direction of the airport check-in.

Killian Jones hated airports. There really wasn't a way of denying it after months of developing said opinion - facts were facts and _that_ one was all sorts of true.

He liked to believe he was a rather rational man and honestly he didn't hate many things in life, but finding yourself in the environment you claim to loathe will bring out all shades of negativity. At the moment, the multiple lines and unnecessary noise were doing just that. Well, his thumping head's drunken regrets and the incessantly ringing phone in his pocket might have been part of the issue as well - but his fault in all of this wasn't something he was prepared to address in his current state. He slammed his thumb on the button that would allow him to ignore the call before approaching the ticketing counter.

Between lost baggage, the impolite rush of confused travelers, and the endless hours wasted doing just about nothing, he figured it was rather easy to see why this was the last place he wanted to be - but his dislike didn't stem from any of those things. No, it wasn't about the time of day or what the destination was. It wasn't affected by boarding first or last or even if the flight was on time or three hours delayed. LAX. O'Hare. Vancouver International. JFK. London Heathrow. He'd endured them all and then some, but it really didn't matter. He was convinced that the word 'terminal' was associated with airports for a reason.

For the record, it was that last location that was wedging the particularly annoying thorn in his side - but London itself was _hardly_ his biggest problem right now.

He hadn't always had this irrational distaste for air travel, but spending weeks on end in the uncomfortable seats of whatever type of Boeing his ticket was booked on wasn't particularly exciting. In fact, it was _terrible_ \- downright maddening and monotonous in the worst way.

He supposed there were other reasons he detested navigating and sitting in an airport - many of which he was in the process of running or rather _flying_ away from. He wasn't ready for those feelings to catch up with him yet. No, the numbness was a good thing and he planned to hold onto it as long as possible.

Killian read through his boarding pass while weaving through the ropes of the security line and dropping his bag at his feet to wait. He didn't care what anyone else though - when it came to luggage, carry-on was the only way to go. There was quite a length of people. He pulled his frustrated hands over his eyes and down his face as he willed his exhaustion to fade. His phone rang again and he stared down at the device without intention of answering. He sighed when it finally went quiet and switched it to vibrate before shoving it back in his pocket.

He'd already endured one flight this week and the impending one would be much longer than the first. Killian sighed heavily at the knowledge and wondered with a look around just where he could purchase some coffee once he proved his bag and demeanor matched the tedious TSA guidelines. He had been a bit of a zombie for weeks now and he knew that sleep wasn't about to come easy. _Might as well stay awake_ , he thought - even though he didn't have a specific reason as to why he was adamant about keeping his eyes open.

What he did have was a growing lack of affect, a characteristic of what some might call a broken heart. Yes, _some_ might - but he wasn't ready to settle on that fact.

 _Milah_ , he thought with a sigh. Maybe it was his fault. Killian had fallen head over his worn out Converse sneakers in love when they met six years ago en route of his second year attending university - back before he dropped out to write his novel and before his work became worthy of best seller status. She'd been beautiful and ambitious and their love had been simple and effortless in the easiest way.

To this day, he still couldn't really pinpoint when it had all started to fall apart. Once he sold the book, things got harder and began to unravel in a harsh way. They started to grow apart, arguing and the silent treatment becoming trademarks of their strained relationship. As things grew toxic, insecurities surfaced and it didn't take long for him to feel like he was losing her right along with the man he _thought_ he was. He'd bought the ring and proposed in a moment of panic - Killian knew it as soon as the words left his lips. Though there was something that wasn't right about it, the promise of a serious commitment would fix things for a while.

Well, at least Killian _thought_ so. Yet there was something about catching an early flight home to Ireland from an extended book tour to find your fiancé in bed with your publisher that shattered the illusion of _anything_ being stable.

Killian shook his head as he pushed the image away. The moments that followed that instance were blur really. He'd grabbed a few things - extra clothes and whatever was left of his dignity - and headed _back_ to the airport. About an hour and a half later, he found himself rather grateful for the place he'd been renting in London. Yes, he had initially leased it as a landing space for his layover nights while he was out promoting his novel or attending meetings with his editor. Now, interestingly and pathetically enough, it was home. Well, at least it was until he was ready to deal with the mess that had become his broken residence back in Dublin.

 _God_ , he needed something to drink. Daylight was kicking his ass with such a serious lack of rest rolling around in his head. Checking his watch to read the time 9:14, he knew it was probably out of the question to find himself at the bottom of any bottle. It was sad to think about how that location had become his preference during his time alone recently. He wasn't an alcoholic - though the empty tumblers of rum that littered the surfaces of his London flat may have made people wonder. He deflected the idea, not wanting to analyze his irrational behavior. He didn't need that right now. He just need a damn cup of coffee - almost as badly as he need to get through this damn security checkpoint and the hell out of this _bloody_ airport.

* * *

It was a strange preference, yes - but Emma Swan _loved_ airports. There were a number of reasons as to why and some of them didn't hold much water with most people, but it didn't matter. There was just something about them that felt right - rather intriguing even.

Of course, she hadn't spent much time in such places over the years - living paycheck to paycheck and biding funds in order to start a small business would do that to you. Growing up in foster care hadn't offered her many opportunities to travel either. In fact, Emma hadn't even had a chance to explore the world outside the United States until she'd start chasing bail jumpers to obscure corners of the world. Things were different now though - they were _better_. She'd spent several years convincing herself of that and she'd be _damned_ if the edgy bustle of an airport would cause her to question it.

She attributed her opinion to some form of overall sincerity. Airports were one of the most honest places in the world and Emma had the utmost affinity for the truth. For the most part, the baggage check and ticketing lines were busy with the employees trying to filter people through as quick as possible. There wasn't really time for sweet words and small talk. The areas lining the terminals were the temporary home to weary travelers, exhausted people lacking patience and the ability to put on a show for others. Some were rude. Some were quiet. _All_ were interesting.

For someone who doubted the honest nature of many individuals, the rawness of an airport created the perfect place for people watching. Emma was in _heaven_.

She did this every year and she always went alone. Sometimes it was a few days and sometimes it was nearly two weeks, but she scheduled her trip months in advance and she always selected a location on her list - the one she'd written down over years of moving from family to family while growing up. Emma had been slowly working through the places she'd jotted down years ago - New York, Costa Rica, California, and even Alaska so far. She checked off a choice every year since she actually starting making enough money to do so.

This year was big though - especially because she'd finally opted to visit one of the top three places on her travel list. She was _finally_ going to England.

Emma had been nervous to commit to it initially. It was further away than many of the destinations she had noted and she'd be flying what had often been called 'across the pond' by herself - but it was nine days. She wanted to do it. She _could_ do it.

Damn _right_ she could - and she sure as hell did.

Emma explored every corner of London with a fearless nature that surprised even herself. She traversed museums, basking in the serenity of art and silence. She visited little cafes and bakeries as she came across them, selecting things to eat that she normally wouldn't. She'd even done a few tourist type things like checking out the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace and riding the London Eye despite her lingering fear of heights. It was everything it was supposed to be - a collection of days where she renewed her free will and independence.

Ending her annual vacation was bittersweet, but she couldn't lie and say she didn't miss Storybrooke. It had taken her a long time to wrap a place up in the label of home and now that she had that, it would be nice to get back. It would be assuring to make sure it was still there - that it was _real_. Even after roughly five years, she still needed that affirmation once in a while.

Emma never imagined she'd have such an array of things in her life to actually miss, but she had several - the top of that list starting with Henry, her son who had recently turned fifteen. Five years ago, she never would have dreamed of this life - living in a small town where she'd opened a bar and purchased a small, refurbished cottage in order to live near the boy she'd once put up for adoption. The whole process had been closed when she signed away her rights at the tender age of seventeen. With Henry's dad out of the picture and Emma being barely able to care for herself, she'd convinced herself she was doing it to give him his best chance at a better life. She had tried to forget it - moving to Boston where she started working as a bail bondsperson. It was something she'd become damn good at too.

Her twenty eighth birthday proved that perhaps she'd passed some of those intuitive tracking skills along to her son. Henry in all his independent ten year old glory had turned up on her doorstep, explaining who he was to a very stunned and disbelieving Emma. She'd insisted on driving him the several hours back to his little hometown in Maine where she quickly began an awkward and rather tumultuous explanation to his adoptive mother, Regina. It had taken them all a _long_ time to get on the same page - something that wasn't totally unfair seeing as how Regina had never imagined even meeting Emma. There had been several tense conversations that nearly convinced her to bag it - that her estranged son would be better off without her.

Henry, however, wasn't going to be swayed and despite her insecure resistance, Emma had a bond with the boy that just wouldn't go away. By some insane grace of what she had to believe to be a higher power, they'd all worked out a system - a way for Emma to stay in town and be a part of her son's life. It had taken a few years of heated arguments and hurtful tears, but it had finally sorted itself out in a way that allowed Henry to become a constant in her new life.

The agreement between all of them was much less than orthodox, but then again, Emma's life had never really been simple. It was home - and finally having a home was _definitely_ worth the trouble.

Her phone buzzed as she walked toward the ticketing lines and she tugged it from her pocket, grinning when she found her son's name on the screen.

 **Henry: Are you at the airport? Your flight leaves in an hour, mom.**

She laughed softly, her fingers preparing to reply. Henry was a stickler for schedules and she had to find amusement in the way he was checking in on her.

 **Emma: Yeah, kid - I'm just waiting to board. Definitely ready to get home.**

 **Henry: Good, we've missed you. My mom says I can come stay with you tomorrow night if you're not too tired. Then you can tell me all about your trip.**

She quickly tucked the device away, exchanging greetings and directions with the woman checking her in on the computer. Emma dropped and tagged her luggage quickly, smiling at the smooth process as she headed toward the security checkpoint. There were several lines and she tried to mentally pick the shortest one as she adjusted the smaller bag she'd opted to keep on her shoulder. She stretched on her toes, attempting to count the people in each area when she heard the soft smack on the cold tile at her feet. Emma glanced toward the ground in search of the noise. Spinning on her heel in curiosity, she figured she'd find whatever had fallen the moment she turned around. Dammit, she _really_ needed to be more attentive-

"Excuse me, love," a smooth, accented voice said. "I think you dropped this."

As Emma's eyes slowly rose from the floor to source of the words, her breath hitched. Emma's misplaced passport was extended in her direction by a firm hand, one that belonged to a man she'd definitely not noticed until this moment. Dark, disheveled hair that was pushed back carelessly. A smirk that seemed to be deciphering her. Blue eyes - the most drowning, _deep_ , beautiful blue eyes. God knows how she had even been able to be so _oblivious_ \- this guy was the picture of ruggedly handsome.

"O-oh. Sorry - yeah," she stuttered, gripping her bag hard as she reached for it. "Thank you. I guess I should...be more careful."

"Uh, yeah," he laughed, scratching his ear in a somewhat adorable manner. "I would assume you'll need that to leave the country. American, are you?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Lucky guess?"

Emma chuckled slightly, not sure what else to say. She gave him eyes of gratitude as she pondered turning back around.

"A tourist then?"

"If that's what you want to call it," she replied vaguely. "Though I try not to act too much like one."

"It would appear so," he said observantly. "The lack of luggage makes me think you checked a bag though - sure sign of a foreigner, love."

"Perceptive, aren't you?"

"Perhaps," he grinned, shrugging a bit. "Or perhaps you're just something of an open book."

There was a slight arrogance to his tone, a trait that for some reason struck an attractive chord. Emma raised an eyebrow in thought, but he seemed to take it as some type of challenge. His head tilted with inquiry. He was studying her - sorting her out like the well worn pieces of a puzzle.

Who the hell did this guy think he was? Was he _flirting_ with her? She didn't have time for this.

There was a flicker of something in his eyes when he said it, some sort of spark that she didn't want to turn away from as she squeezed the passport between her fingertips. She blushed a bit, about to serve up some saucy reply when her subconsciously moving feet brought her to the front of the line. As the nearby attendant checked her documentation and directed her to the next waiting area, Emma found her opportunity to respond vanish. She took a moment to smile softly and perhaps a bit flirtatiously as he filtered into the stream of passengers in the line over from her, his blue eyes blending into the swarm of people flowing in and out of the area.

As she set her bag on the conveyor belt, Emma couldn't help but peer toward the adjacent line in search of Mr. Know It All. Her neck strained for a sight of him - for an opportunity to respond to his insistent and rather confident accusation. Emma glanced back and forth as she followed the path through security, but she couldn't find him.

He was gone - and Emma couldn't help but wonder why she even cared. She shook her head hard, tossing her bag back over her shoulder and relocating her phone to complete her conversation with her son.

 **Emma: I'd love that. I'll let you know when I land back in the states, okay?  
**

 **Henry: Okay. Have a safe trip. Love you, mom.**

 **Emma: Love you too, Henry. See you soon.**

She grinned to herself at the Henry's messages. It had taken Emma quite a while to get used to people offering her that sort of caring attention - it was so unexpected after years of being alone. Of course, the solitary life she led _was_ her choice - but after everything she'd been through while establishing her fresh start, by herself just seemed like the best place to be. She'd slowly started to deconstruct that wall, beginning with Henry and continuing with the friendships she'd developed since relocating to Storybrooke. Emma had convinced herself she was capable of these baby steps, but _only_ those - at least for now.

The departure board hadn't given her any new information and she knew they wouldn't start loading the plane quite yet. Her curiosity seeped in as she wondered where the stranger from security was traveling to. _Snap out of it_ , Emma chided herself as she set out in search of some refreshment.

The robust scent of fresh coffee filled her senses after a moment and she turned in the direction it seemed to be drifting from. She had a bit of time - a cup of caffeine surely wouldn't hurt. The line was short and Emma was able to snag a drink in record time. She breathed in the steam and strong aroma of her cup with a smile, the warmth causing her skin to tingle. _An open book_ , she scoffed with sudden recollection. What a pompous _jerk_. He didn't know her.

With the beverage grasped lightly between her fingertips, Emma moved toward the large glass windows to watch the paths of the airplanes as they navigated the tarmac, trying to ignore the resonating words of her encounter with that mystery man. It didn't matter - she'd be back in Storybrooke soon with the London airport nothing but a stop on her recent trip. Emma sighed softly, enjoying the simplicity of morning coffee as she stared out at the final scenes of England. There was something so strangely wonderful about her solo vacations, but there was something even better in that instance about being homeward bound.

* * *

Killian opted for the closest coffee cart with a dreadful sigh, knowing full well that he could find one with better variety if he was willing to make the hike back toward the previous gate. He was almost sure his lagging shoes wouldn't carry him that far - although he did ponder testing his theory for a moment. It didn't really matter if he had a wealth of choices or not. He just needed something strong and heavily caffeinated. His eyes scanned the small menu as he fished his wallet from his back pocket, feeling the buzz of another missed call as waited to order.

He sure as hell hadn't expected that - or her. Honestly, Killian had been so wrapped up in his own misery that it was a wonder he'd even noticed that she had dropped something. When he'd bent to pick it up, he had merely been attempting an act of basic humanity. He was a gentleman regardless of how horrible he felt. Yet when her green gaze fused to his, Killian felt his heart skip a couple of beats for a reason he couldn't explain.

She'd intrigued him immediately - well, from the moment his fingertips brushed her palm as he returned the passport to her possession. She was quick and fiery in a take-no-shit-from-anyone kind of way. It was amusing. It was _attractive_. She was definitely something - but then, she was gone.

He didn't even learn her name.

Killian wanted to slap himself for a number of reasons as he finally reached the counter, pushing the idea of this woman from his thoughts. He mumbled something about espresso and slid the total across the counter, feeling the vibration of what was likely to be an angry text message. Gathering his dwindling energy and faking a smile at the employee behind the counter, Killian yanked his phone from his pocket as he moved to the side to wait for his drink. The display lit up with the same name in the form of several notifications - mostly voicemails he probably wouldn't listen to - and he rolled his eyes at the way his overly concerned best mate was clearly babysitting him. He tapped the message icon, sighing before reading the reprimanding words.

 **Robin: Jones, you bloody well better be at the airport. Don't think I won't fly to London and sort you out myself if need be. Plus, you'll have your little nephew in bits. Ring me back. Don't be an arse.**

Killian gave the device a slight scowl turned smirk as he pondered a response. It wasn't good form on his friend's part to use his favorite little faux relative, Roland, to guilt trip him. Killian loved that boy like his own and the familiarity of having the little Locksley clan around was one of the only reasons he'd succumbed to this demanded trip. He had been dragging his feet excruciatingly slow for weeks now, but when his best friend called late one night with that thick concern in his tone, Killian finally caved.

"Sir? Your espresso's ready."

He snapped out of his daze at the voice, his eyes acknowledging the cup that had been placed on the counter for him. Twirling his phone between his fingers as he moved between a few people to retrieve his coffee, Killian debated returning Robin's call. Perhaps it was a lapse in his stubborn attitude or the warmth of the cup in his hand, but he decided it was probably time to accept his fate and dial the necessary numbers.

He lifted the beverage to his lips, scrolling down on the screen as he rounded the corner back to his seat - and that's when he saw her.

Well, more like he ran right smack _into_ her.

It all happened so fast. Hands scrambling for stability. Phone sliding across the floor. Two tumbling coffee cups. Matchings sharp gasps. A flash of two surprised eyes - wide, _beautiful_ , emerald green eyes. His jaw lowered itself to the floor as his pride ran for cover, leaving Killian speechless and looking like an utter fool as coffee pooled at his feet.

"Oh god...I'm so-"

The long string of curse words assembling in his head vanished as he raised his gaze higher to lock with hers. Her hair was long and brilliantly blonde, twirling in loose waves down her shoulders. Her cheeks were the slightest pink and her mouth was parted in shock. Those eyes though - they were the deepest and most amazing color he'd ever seen.

It was _her_ \- the girl from the security line. _God_ , she was stunning. Of course she was...and of _course_ he'd been clumsy enough to spill not only his drink down the front of her shirt but _hers_ as well. Yes, both cups of rather hot coffee all over her _white_ v-neck shirt.

 _Don't even think about staring_ , he warned himself silently.

"I, uh," she tried, shaking the liquid from her fingers. "Wow...uh-"

"Bloody hell, I am _so_ sorry, lass," he said quickly, trying to shield the embarrassment in his tone. "I can't even... _god_ , I just-"

"No, _no_ ," she replied awkwardly, her hands hanging limp in the air to avoid the mess. "I should have been paying more attention. I just need-"

"Nothing of it, lass - it was my mistake," he assured her, grabbing some napkins. "Here - maybe these will help?

She began wiping the spill from her clothes carefully before she glanced back up at him. Killian knew his expression was very frazzled and his eyes were likely a nervous blue. Her gaze was heavy and curious, deciphering slowly as she smirked ever so subtly. Yes, she was...something - something he couldn't _quite_ define. This was ridiculous. He knew nothing about this woman. He didn't even know her _name_ \- but _god_ how he wanted to.

"I have to say that I'm not usually so graceless."

"Completely my fault, love," Killian laughed, trying for redemption. "Call it karma, right?"

"I didn't know clumsiness was contagious," she laughed. "If that's the case, I'm the one that should be apologizing."

"I thought I recognized you," he admitted, praying his cheeks weren't as red as they felt. "I mean - because of earlier."

"Yeah," Emma laughed awkwardly. "Do you throw coffee on everyone you think you recognize?"

"No...I, uh, can't say that I do," he replied nervously, an apology in his eyes. "God, I feel like a sodding fool, lass. Let me buy you another? You'd even be welcome to toss it all over my shirt if that's your preference."

She smirked at the offer. It was strange the way she paused at his question, his sweet gesture not expected or necessary. His gaze was just so blue and sincere - a look that pleaded with hope. Emma felt her stomach flutter as she observed his expression.

"You don't have to do that. Accidents happen."

"They do," he mused, a semblance of an honest smile turning up at the corners of his mouth. "But I'd like to make right on this one. I mean if you don't mind - please?"

"Well...I guess - _okay_ ," she finally agreed with a laugh, her stare brightening as she handed over her empty cup. "Vanilla latte? I'm just going to...finish this."

"Yeah," he grinned, blushing like an idiot again at his lack of coordination. "You should do that. Hey, _uh_ \- I'm...Killian."

He took a deep breath, holding it tightly as he waited - well, as he _hoped_ she'd offer her own name in return. Killian didn't know what the _hell_ was going on. He didn't know why he had this odd rush of adrenaline and anticipation pulsing through his veins as he watched her, but after his recent stretch of dreary days, he couldn't bring himself to fight the strange feeling. The charmed smile on her lips and the way she continually dabbed at the stain on her shirt made him wonder if she felt it too.

"Emma."

It was one word - one _name_ \- but it lit up his mind in a most unexpected way. He nodded softly, giving her a bit of a flirty smirk that he didn't know he still possessed.

"Emma," he repeated, enjoying the way the sounds rolled off his tongue. Perhaps he could tolerate London a _bit_ longer.

* * *

Oh, shit. It was the guy from the security line - the insanely good looking, mysterious, more-than-meets-the-eye-plus-an-accent guy. She'd appreciate the ironic twist of fate if she wasn't so caught off guard and simultaneously covered in latte.

 _Killian_. That was his name. She tried to watch him stealthily while continuing to scrub at her shirt. For someone adept at observing others, she'd sure as hell allowed her eyes to skim over this guy when she was canvassing the terminal earlier.

She couldn't infer much about him yet. The coffee mishap hadn't exactly created the best circumstances for chatting - not that she _wanted_ to. No, Emma just wanted to get on the plane and go home. This guy and his adorably clumsy hands coupled with that quirky half smile were not things she could deal with right now.

Killian - yes, that was his name - was some sort of mysteriously foreign. She couldn't quite place the accent, but she didn't think he sounded like London was his home. God, he was every _bit_ of that tall, dark, and handsome cliche. He was dressed simply - faded jeans, a pair of well leather boat shoes, and a dark cable knit sweater that appeared to be keeping him from the cold.

"Able to salvage your shirt, love?"

Emma jumped a bit as he arrived back at her side, handing her a new steaming cup of brew. The sweet smell warmed her from the inside out and she tried to hide the shiver on her skin as her eyes met his fierce blue ones.

"It's fine," Emma shrugged, a polite smile on her lips. "I think I have an extra in my bag."

"I wondered if I'd see you again," he offered after a moment, smirking like the devil he might be. "I wasn't sure where you were headed today."

She could tell that he was inquiring. His stare was innocent and sweet, something that seemed quite suspicious. An unnecessary red flag warned her as she pondered the proper answer.

"Home."

He was surprised at first, his eyebrows arching as he waited for her to add to her reply. When she didn't, he laughed softly in a knowing manner. The sound shook Emma all the way to her insecurities - damn, this man really could see _right_ through her. He sipped his own drink in a way that was far too mesmerizing. She _had_ to get the hell out of there.

"Look, thank you for the coffee, but I-"

His phone started to ring, interrupting her smooth exit. Her words hung in the air as his eyes filled with alarm - almost as if he didn't _want_ her to go. He glanced quickly at the screen as he bit his lower lip.

"I'm just gonna-"

"Emma, hold on," he begged as he set about answering the call. "I'll just be a second-"

"I have to go," she blurted out, clutching her bag close as she sought out a restroom where she could hopefully change. "Thanks again, Killian."

She didn't look back and he didn't come after her. _Thank god,_ she thought - even though deep down, she was truly a little disappointed. It seemed like _quite_ the coincidence for her to run into him twice. Had she been a superstitious person, Emma might have even thrown around a word like serendipity. She rolled her eyes at the idea, storming into the closest stall as her feet met the tile of the bathroom floor.

Tearing through the bag, Emma quickly regretted packing the majority of her clothes in the bag she'd paid to check. She pulled the stained top from her body and tossed it aside while she rifled through the few shirts she had in her bag. Her slight grin found its way to her lips when she located a green one with the bar's logo and name printed across the front. Emma had no clue how that particular article had made its way into her bag, but she was damn glad to have it.

She tugged it over her head, running her fingers through her tangled blonde hair as she tried to get her mind off the reason she had to change shirts mid trip. His name spelled itself out in her distracted mind. Emma pursed her lips as his blue gaze danced through her memory, cut off only by the barely audible first call for boarding. Emma quickly double checked her flight number with the one announced. Dammit, she thought as she threw everything back into her carry-on. It didn't matter anymore - _he_ didn't matter anymore. It was time to go home.

* * *

Robin was the absolute _worst_. Killian had been a hair's breadth away from missing this flight on purpose in order to avoid the interrogation his best friend surely had planned - this spur of the moment trip hadn't been his idea anyway. It had only taken a fraction of a second for him to finally settle on going - a moment that was quickly followed by a poorly timed phone call. Yes, the uncomfortable and inconvenient ringing that led to Emma's quick departure.

He'd stared as she went, wanting to call out to her but not knowing what to say. Instead, he stood with his ringing phone in his hand until she was out of sight. God, he was an _idiot_. He'd found himself in the company of this woman twice in a short frame of time merely by chance. Killian didn't have to be a gambler to know that those odds didn't come around often. It mattered not though - she was gone again.

His ill timed anger at his best mate led to him foregoing the phone call and opting for an irritated text message, one he typed rapidly before he slung his bag across his shoulder to head toward the plane.

 **Killian: Boarding the plane. You win. See you in about seven hours.**

Jamming the phone back in his pocket, he made his way toward the line of passengers with resumed tired steps. His hand held out his flimsy boarding pass and he nodded at the attendant who scanned it before heading down the tunnel toward the aircraft. The whooshing sound of the plane being prepared attempted to drown out the thoughts of the blonde American filling his mind to no avail. He wondered what it would have been like to talk to her a little more. He wondered where she was going and what she'd been in London for. He wondered if she was thinking about him. He had nothing else - so he _had_ to wonder.

He made quick work of storing his bag in the overhead bin, clicking the cover in place over it before he found his seat. Sitting in business class was an odd thing - writing was something he loved and he'd been fortunate in turning it into a viable means of work. He only hoped it would continue to be such a fruitful endeavor - it was hard to say what the future held given the way the past few weeks had unfolded. He sighed, remembering that he'd decided to wait until he returned from the states to deal with all of that.

Killian pressed his scalp back against the headrest, trying to get comfortable. Airplanes had quickly climbed the list of his least favorite places to sleep, surpassed only by 'drunk and alone in the London apartment'. He rubbed his eyes with a huge yawn before he began to fumble with the seatbelt.

The lights in the cabin flickered, something that he'd seen happen a million times during the boarding process of a flight - but this was different. He didn't know why, but he felt...something. His eyes looked upward, shifting from side to side before starting ahead. He blinked hard as he tried to avoid the stupor he was about to fall into.

She was there - standing in the aisle and staring at her boarding pass with intent eyes. Killian froze as he watched her, a small smile threatening the corners of his lips. His imagination had clearly taken over in the midst of his lack of productive sleep. There was absolutely no way in hell they'd cross paths again.

The less than convincing thought had barely entered his brain when she started toward him, her gaze following the seat numbers listed along the overhead bins. She paused for a moment when she reached the a space about three rows in front of him and their eyes locked once again in surreal state of shock. Killian tried to fend off the impending smirk, failing miserably as she clutched the strap of her bag and kept moving. Her feet stopped when she reached the aisle next to him, her presence close enough that she brushed the armrest with her leg. He heard the sigh fall from her lips before he allowed himself to stare up at her.

Emma, he mused to himself. Seriously - what were the _odds?_

"Hey," she almost stuttered, biting her lip as she turned her ticket to face him. "Is this seat taken?"

"It would appear that it's about to be by you-" he replied with a controlled smile, narrowing his eyes at the name listed on the document. "-Emma _Swan_."

She rolled her eyes at him, raising her eyebrows impatiently so he'd stand and let her walk past. As she shuffled past him, Killian was instantly met with the warm graze of her shoulder and the subtle vanilla scent of her skin. Watching out of the corner of his eye, he had to smirk at their ironic circumstances. _Third time's a charm_ , he thought as his mind reeled with ways to get her to talk to him.

Soon enough, the flight attendants closed up the doors and began their walks through the cabins, closing the overhead bins and telling people to put their tray tables up. Killian caught her brief glance in a sideways stare as she clicked her seatbelt, a moment that made his nerves spike and his head turn with possibility. Listening to the sound of the plane taxiing toward the runway, he realized that for the first time in weeks, up in the air didn't seem like the worst place to be.


	2. Chapter 2

**Alright, things are definitely going to get interesting from here on out :] enjoy! All rights/characters belong to OUAT. I own nothing!**

* * *

God damn business class. Stupid, _ridiculous_ , unbelievable god _damn_ business class. The words were on a loop in her mind, the explicit ones varying a bit here each time the annoyed conclusion repeated itself.

This whole upgrade had initially been very inviting. She'd scoffed at the option of a business class ticket when she'd drunkenly booked her flight with her friend Ruby, the girl who'd come up with the idea in the first place. Honestly, it made sense. The flight was going to be longer than most she'd taken and it was a quick fix to make it more comfortable. A few dollars over budget on her expenses wouldn't be too outrageous. Plus, Emma's vacations were nobody's _business_ but her own. She'd schedule her seat in whatever _damn_ cabin she wanted.

She adjusted her head against the seat back and wiggled her toes in her shoes. Yes, she had plenty of leg room, plenty of time to catch some sleep, and plenty of reasons to _never_ listen to Ruby again. Emma set into a simmering silence, allowing a whole range of emotions to flow through her body as she snuck a quick glance at him. Appearing to be rather involved in reading some well worn book, Killian smirked down at the pages without looking up. Well, of _course_ he'd find this amusing - she was cornered and he knew it.

She had been trying to delay the inevitable, casually ignoring the heated energy between them as she tried to figure out how this whole thing had even happened. The airport was huge - one of the busiest ones in Europe actually. There were four working terminals and buses and trains tracing the length of the facility, circling around in a way that could confuse anyone easily. It was an interesting occurrence to meet him in the first place, but to cross paths with this man who'd rattled her nerves and captured her attention more than just once or twice was nothing short of an anomaly.

He was borderline infuriating with the way he could use little words and smoldering glances to make her heart race. His accented speech seemed to envelope her, pulling her in to further investigate this puzzle of a man. Sure, he was attractive and perhaps a bit alluring with those cobalt blue eyes, but that wasn't all of it. No, there was something else there - something about him that was brooding and sad. He was beyond skilled at concealing it, but she could still see it. He was broken in a way - and Emma was fighting her desire to figure out how _and_ when he'd been shattered.

Even just looking his direction seemed dangerous - so talking to him was out of the question. She bit her lip hard as she stared out the window, watching the plane ascend. _Seven hours,_ she thought as her rational mind took over. She could do this. Just seven hours and she probably wouldn't ever see him again. Emma took a deep breath as she refused to acknowledge the regret swirling in her stomach at that rather uncertain thought.

The soft laugh that came from his lips seemed to taunt that confidence she was trying to convince herself of. Emma raised an eyebrow at him as she quickly attempted to cover her curiosity with irritation.

"What?"

"Nothing, lass."

The words rolled off his accented tongue in a teasing manner. Maybe she didn't know much about this guy, but she'd observed him enough to know that 'nothing' most _definitely_ meant _something_.

"No," she replied, attempting a flirty tone as she tried a new approach. "If you've got something to say, just _say_ it."

He paused his reading, peering sideways at her with that devious smirk. God, that look did things to her - things she wasn't about to _even_ consider.

"Tell me-" Emma tried boldly. "- _dammit_."

The stressed use of her words seemed to strike a nerve and he straightened slightly. She watched the subtle hitch of his breath, his jaw clenching in thought. He looked pensive and daring. This classic combo wasn't going to be _anything_ but trouble.

"I just find your insistence on ignoring me - or _this_ \- quite intriguing, love."

" _This?_ There is no this."

It was a weak retort - even Emma knew that. He toyed with the corner of a page, gripping the book on his lap as he shifted in the seat. His hands were calculated and careful in a way that made her wonder. God, she _had_ to stop.

"So you don't find this whole situation a bit...peculiar?"

She found it coincidental as hell. _He_ didn't need to know that though.

"Peculiar seems like a good word for it," she nodded, crossing her arms insecurely. "I don't feel a need to psychoanalyze every little happenstance in my life though, _Killian_."

His eyes dropped back down to the text, the clearly unexpected use of his name shutting him up for the time being. A sense of quiet filled the air between them in a way that was stifling her. Minutes ticked by, each of them making her wonder if he'd given up on conversing with her. Part of her hoped not - though she had _no_ idea why.

"You know, Emma - most men might find your silence as off putting," Killian began, swallowing hard as he closed his book with a grin. "But I happen to love a challenge."

What the _hell_ was this guy's game? Emma bit her lip gently, tearing her gaze away from him. She had terrible willpower when it came to situations like this - she'd never been one to back down either. The way that he said her name before his little chiding comment wasn't helping matters either.

"I think you're afraid to talk," he accused playfully, a knowing smile turning up the corner of his mouth. "You're afraid to reveal yourself."

"Why would I be afraid of something like that?"

"Perhaps _you_ should tell _me_ , love."

She could sense the proposition in his voice - the way he was daring her to prove him wrong. She stared hard at him, waiting for his eyes to lighten or his question to fade. It was fruitless - he wasn't going anywhere. Well, not for seven hours at least.

"Good morning," a rather flirtatious female flight attendant grinned, her eyes centering on Killian. "Something to drink?"

Without a second thought, Emma snatched the beverage menu from the seat pocket. Just past eleven in England and the crack of dawn in Storybrooke - she shouldn't do it. God, it was a _terrible_ idea. Peeking over at Killian, she watched as he ran his fingernails over his jeans. Perhaps he was fighting the same moral battle. Oh, _screw_ it. She was on still on holiday - sort of.

"Whiskey," Emma breathed, fighting off her guilt at soon as she said it. "Neat. Whatever you've got."

Killian raised his eyebrows at her in some type of amazement and she mused at her success of leaving him speechless. The woman's smile faltered a bit before she looked back to the man who seemed to be more anxious to read Emma than the _damn_ novel in his lap. His lips began the path of a curve, a knowing expression filling his features.

"Rum," Killian told the stewardess. "Same."

The now uneasy flight attendant handed their rather untimely libations to Killian and he turned to hold the whiskey out to her with a clever smirk. Emma snatched it with narrowed eyes, taking a quick sip as she swallowed what was left of her pride. The responsible side of Emma wanted to wring her own neck, but the vacation clad Emma begged for the chance to live it up a little longer. The version of herself that seemed strangely enraptured with the mystery of this man...well, _that_ was someone she wasn't about to start taking opinions from.

Emma was all but certain that she was going to hate herself for it tomorrow, but she had to know. She had to push him just a bit - she had to see what he was playing at. Tipping back her tumbler, she quickly drained half the glass before she found the bravery that would allow her to meet his heavy gaze again. When she finally did, her breath slipped shakily from between her lips before a small half smile began to develop from within what she hoped to be a confident expression. _Here goes everything_ , Emma thought.

"Fine - I'll bite," she smirked, running her fingers along the condensation of her drink. "What _exactly_ am I supposed to be telling you about?"

As he looked at her with nothing less that the utmost shock, Emma couldn't help but wonder what the hell she'd just started.

* * *

The silence after she finally sat down in the seat next to his had stretched out far too long. Roughly twenty six minutes too long - not that he was counting.

Well, _actually_ he was - and it was a task of a most awful nature.

Emma had said very little, but the silent standoff didn't keep her from occupying his thoughts. He tilted his head just slightly every few minutes or so, checking for a sign that maybe she was pondering him as well. She acted nervous - maybe even a bit vulnerable as her fingers toyed with the hem of her shirt. He didn't know her, but he could sense that she wasn't fond of being unguarded.

Killian allowed his brain to backpedal, prompting it to retrace a few well placed steps - ones that had allowed him to stumble upon this woman in the first place. Well, he'd eventually stumbled _into_ her, but it was nonetheless an act of unpredictability. He couldn't let go of the idea that maybe it meant something. More than that, he wanted to figure out why she had this obscure hold on him. He'd been certain he left his destroyed heart on the floor of his infidelity ridden home weeks ago, but the way it was pounding in his chest was making him think twice.

Six years of monogamy hadn't taken too harsh of a toll on his ability to participate in this more specific sort of banter - it was clear in the way she glared at him with that oh so _feigned_ annoyance. Killian was something of a pathological flirt - it was a characteristic he'd adopted to cater to the readers of his books and their never ending affections. His uncanny ability to enamor countless fans was part of his success as a writer, but he wouldn't get by on that with Emma. Interestingly enough, he wasn't really engaged in some ridiculous attempt to seduce her. He wasn't about to drop his act, but his current desire to know this woman heavily outweighed his inclination to persuade her.

It wasn't that he couldn't imagine her on the end of that more descriptive sort of outcome - because he sure as _hell_ could - but the way she seemed so insistent on keeping him at arm's length confirmed that Emma was worth a lot more than that. She wasn't one night stand or rebound material - not that he was looking for such things. There was a reason she was so protective of whatever she was hiding - and Killian would _gladly_ take the remaining six hours and thirty eight minutes of their time in the sky to find out what she was masking.

Luckily enough, now she was giving him an _in_. She was offering him some space to inquire - and he was definitely going to take _full_ advantage of that. He was suddenly quite thankful that he'd developed a strong liking for alcohol lately. He wasn't going to be able to summon the blunt, bold skills he needed without a glass or three of rum.

"Are you always such a skeptic, Emma?"

"Uh," she attempted, eyes wide as she blushed. "Excuse me?"

Her stare was incredulous as she tilted her glass carefully from side to side, causing the remaining liquid to swirl slowly. _Dammit_. He hadn't meant to blurt it out in such an accusatory tone. Honestly, Killian had no room to talk. The path he'd been wandering recently had made him rather cynical as well.

"Well, you - or rather _we_ \- are drinking and it's a bit early even by my standards," he smirked, trying not to question his suavity in that moment. "The libations suggest that you might not totally be on board with the idea of sharing."

"I don't think you know me well enough to be making assumptions like that one."

"Aye. Fair point," he agreed. "So tell me - just who are you, Swan?"

"Hmmm," she said after a moment. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Perhaps I would."

The words slipped out of his mouth without thought - a brave confession that he clearly didn't plan on offering up. She stared at him with every intention of drilling a hole right through his head. It was a piercing stare, one he couldn't and didn't want to look away from. It was almost like a dare - almost like she was warning him he'd better back down. His eyes locked firmly in place. She wasn't going to get rid of him _that_ easily.

"Go ahead," she finally offered. "Ask away."

Well, this he didn't plan for. He had been almost sure she'd brush him off. _Tough lass_ , he thought as he tried to hide his victorious smile. His eyes traced the lines of her face, following the waves of her long hair down to the shirt she had changed into post coffee catastrophe. Reading what appeared to be a logo, he furrowed his eyebrows as a question formed in his head.

"The Beanstalk Brewery?"

She sighed, appearing relieved albeit a bit embarrassed at the way his choice of the third degree was unfolding. Killian felt his pulse quicken at the amused grin taking up the corner of her mouth. Her lips were smooth and tempting - the pressing of them together making him his head turn with a variety of _intriguing_ thoughts. God, _how_ was she doing this to him?

"Yeah," she nodded, drawing a finger around the brim of her glass. "It's a bar."

"A bar?"

"Yes - like a pub," she teased. "I'm pretty sure you have those...wherever you're from."

"Aye," Killian laughed, a bit surprised at her quick wit. "I'm merely asking why you're providing free advertising for this place that wields a rather interesting name."

"Well," Emma said, biting her lip. "It's my bar."

Ah, so she was a business owner. Killian figured that accounted for a bit of her strong willed nature - not all of it though.

"I see," he smirked, tapping the side of his glass with her fingernail. "The name suggests that you do the brewing yourself?"

"Kind of," she shrugged. "It's technically a bar & somewhat of a brewery. My brother - err, sort of brother - does some of it. We serve the basics as well so I guess that's where I'd consider it more of a bar than anything else."

"Whimsy name then," he grinned, genuinely interested in the way she was opening up a bit. "I suppose that might explain the drinking at dawn then."

"Hardly," Emma retorted, glaring at him and his teasing tone. "I'm merely indulging so I'll be able to put up with your arrogant antics."

It was something of an admission - he _was_ getting to her. He tried to hid his elation.

"So you're saying that your basis for a morning drink stems from you _wanting_ to share a conversation with me?"

"I don't see why my reasons for drinking are essential here," Emma replied, throwing him an exasperated glare. "Are _you_ always this determined?"

"Always, _Swan_ ," he confirmed, a little impressed with his way of turning her last name into a playing card for his deck. "A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets."

"Hmm, so-" Emma shot back, her eyelashes fluttering. "What _are_ you fighting for?"

It was the question he'd been searching for an answer to he saw her standing in the aisle of the plane. She had a point with that inquiring tone - why _was_ he being so damn relentless? What was he after?

If anyone asked him such a thing before he'd stepped into the London airport, he would have had a list of answers. Solitude. Peace. The ability to distance himself from the ache in his chest and the bottle on the shelf. _Milah_. The name spun in his mind for a moment as he watched Emma's impatient eyes. They were a lighter color like Milah's blue pair, but Killian had never seen green like this before. It was beautiful in a way he'd yet to know, not even in the six years he'd spent in some semblance of love.

No, Emma wasn't Milah - and for the first time in weeks, maybe that was okay.

"When I figure that out, I'll let you know."

"Fair enough," she decided, sitting up straighter as she appeared to entertain an idea. "In the mean time, I think I'll do some investigating of my _own_."

"Oh? How so?"

Killian's breath trembled a bit as he pulled down the tray table, setting down the glass his now unstable hands shouldn't be holding. She considered him for a moment, tucking her hair behind her ear before she looked back down to the dwindling liquor in her glass.

"Well, for starters, where'd you pick up that accent?"

"The same place I got my good looks and unrivaled charm," he taunted, arching an eyebrow. "Ireland, love. Just outside of Dublin actually."

"Ah - and you're teasing _me_ about _my_ drinking?"

"A _mere_ stereotype, Swan - of that I assure you," he disputed, clearly leaving his _own_ recent actions out of the equation. "Alcohol and I may go way back, but it's been a pleasant and _perfectly_ balanced relationship."

He was lying through his brilliantly white teeth, trying to discount the nights his broken heart had opted to swim in whatever he poured into a glass. His late ventures into the depths of a bottle weren't something he could vouch for because for the most part, he didn't remember them. The wretched mornings and skull splitting headaches that followed, however, were far _too_ easy to recollect.

"So does this drinking-" Emma began, pausing to sip what was left of her drink. "-stem from some sort of tortured past?"

 _Bloody_ hell. Could she really see through him _so_ effortlessly? Killian cleared his throat before returning the challenge of his gaze to hers.

"What would make you think it does?"

"You just...seem like you've got more to your story."

It was a moment - one that could have been a turning point. The guarded green of her stare wavered just slightly as her smirk relaxed into a knowing yet understanding smile. Her fingertips pressed hard against the glass and she inhaled sharply, awaiting his words. He hadn't confided much of his recent past to anyone - not even the few who knew all about the broken road he'd traveled years ago. Yet this woman he'd barely met seemed to have this insight into him that he'd never experienced. She _knew_ him. She could see it - _all_ of it.

She was becoming the type he could confide in - which was _exactly_ why he wasn't going to. He couldn't falter into distraction like that if he was going to figure her out.

"Stories can often lack a happy ending, darling," he finally responded, a flirtatiously smirk shielding his vulnerable state. "Now if you don't mind, I think _I'll_ be taking back over when it comes to the questions, love."

* * *

Several hours and a few glasses of the whiskey she _really_ should have neglected to order had found Emma in a rather interesting chat with the man she never imagined meeting. She'd planned on the long flight - the one where she'd get little shuteye and hopefully get through a few chapters in her new book. She didn't ever anticipate being a few hours into a biographical account of Killian _Jones_ \- because yes, _that_ was his name. Now why she'd taken the time to find out such a fact...well, _that_ was as perplexing as the past he was so obviously shielding behind that dastardly grin.

Emma was glad the atmosphere inside the aircraft had picked up. It would have been more difficult to let the alcohol and inhibitions flow if they were trying to keep their animated conversation quiet. A handful of middle aged men on a business trip were nearly yelling in dominant voices followed by loud laughter and two interns were in the process of being quizzed and reprimanded by their fashionista of a boss. The flight attendants servicing their cabin seemed to be more involved in a talk about one of the more attractive pilots than assisting passengers with anything. It didn't bother Emma - then again, not much bothered her when she'd had enough whiskey. She certainly wasn't drunk, but trying to calculate the numbers of glasses she'd had in the four or five hours they'd been in the air was proving to be far too difficult a task.

"So _you_ mean to tell _me_ -" Emma started, teasing evident in her voice. "-that you're an author?"

"I prefer writer," Killian chuckled, scratching behind his ear. "But author works I suppose."

"You wrote a book? _Just_ one?"

"Yes - one," he glared playfully. "But it _was_ a fairly good one."

"Says who?"

"The New York Times said so for a while, love."

 _Whoa_ \- was he serious? Emma was an avid reader herself, but she didn't read much popular literature. No, she often found herself at the behest of the classics - _Alice in Wonderland_ , _Peter Pan_ , and such. She also possessed a rather strange affinity for Shakespeare, but it was one of those lesser known facts. It, therefore, wasn't something that Killian Jones would be hearing about.

"Well, _well_ ," Emma finally replied, taking a drink from her tumbler. "He's a celebrity as well."

" _Hardly_ , love," he sighed, arching his eyebrows. "Like you said - one book."

"Well, is there going to be another?"

"Umm, perhaps - well, maybe," he said, running his teeth along his lower lip. "Jury's still out on that one, love."

" _Ugh_ ," Emma groaned, narrowing her gaze at him. "Do you _always_ have to say that?"

"Say what exactly?"

" _Love_ ," she answered, imitating him poorly. "Calling everyone 'love' in that _sultry_ accent."

Deep dimples found there way to his cheeks as his face went a bit red, embarrassment slightly evident. He recovered quickly, turning his eyes to hers with a half smile that made her heart drop into her stomach.

"Is this your roundabout way of telling me you find the lilt in my words a bit... _appealing?"_

He looked smug, but in a way she was _really_ struggling to be annoyed with. The alcohol coursing through her system was making her less aware of the emotional fence she had spent years constructing and Emma found herself being more nonchalant than she normally allowed. He was just so _easy_ \- easy to talk to, easy to listen to, easy to look at...easy to imagine - no. _Hell_ no. That state of mind needed to be shut down _fast_.

"You know, _love_ ," Killian grinned, staring at her with some sort of intent. "Admitting a bit of fascination with these circumstances wouldn't _kill_ you. In fact, I think I'd rather enjoy _you_ being as honest as you expect me to be."

Emma's breath caught in her mouth, pulling back down her throat in a way that nearly made her choke. Why did he have to say such blatant things? She clearly needed to cut herself off - he shouldn't be able to see through her so easily. His crystal blue glance caught her attention in a way that made her question whether it was the alcohol causing her to be transparent or if he really was just _that_ good. She steadied her nerves as she searched for a set of confident words to reply.

"Please," Emma smiled, her tongue grazing her teeth. "You couldn't handle it."

He gained a competitive, amused expression - one that told her what was coming. A challenge. This man was clearly adamant on always presenting a challenge.

"Perhaps _you're_ the one who couldn't handle it."

His accent clicked on the final letter of his taunt, a sharp sound that snapped her eyes onto his locked ones. They both stared with a mutual abandon, neither of them backing down from a battle of the wits and perhaps something else. Emma tried to focus on the cool touch of the glass under her fingers - she couldn't afford to drown in the blue of his glare.

Suddenly, the plane hit a rough patch of air, briefly giving the seats a hard shake. Emma gripped the armrest, trying to maintain composure as she held on in a effort to ride out the turbulence while the seatbelt sign lit back up. Her plan was working too - well, until the heard the gasp fall from his lips. The plane had barely settled when she glanced over to him to find that the unexpected bump in their smooth travel had slid his glass of rum from the tray table _right_ into his lap. The majority of it was plastered across his sweater, the untimely spill causing his mouth to hang open as his wide eyes glared down at the mess.

"Bloody _hell_..."

Emma bit her lip in amusement, thinking back to the coffee that had landed all over her clothes a few hours ago. She simply couldn't resist such an opportunity to address the irony at hand - especially one that could mirror his words from back in the airport.

"You, uh-" Emma said, biting back her laughter with fierce determination. "-were saying something about karma?"

"Hmmm - _very_ funny, Swan," Killian stuttered, an awkward smirk crossing his lips. "God, I need to get this cleaned up."

The seatbeat light clicked off the moment the words left his lips, a happy little coincidence that made him smile successfully at her. He handed her the empty glass with a humorous wink and rose to his feet. Emma tried not to stare at the way he reached to open the overhead compartment. It was far too ambitious of a goal as her eyes watched him stretch, the motion causing his damp sweater to rise just enough for her to see his skin. She caught a brief glimpse of his toned body, her eyes clinging to the way his abs met his hips and the muscles that defined that sight. _God_ , this man was a piece of a work - a chiseled, handsome, sex _infused_ piece of work.

The bin above her clicked shut and he gazed down at her, catching the way she mused at him. He laughed as he curled the flannel shirt he'd obtained around his hand, biting his lip for good measure. Emma swallowed the moan threatening to escape her lips as she watched his eyes darken slightly. It didn't matter what legal jurisdiction they were under - those damn teeth _had_ to be illegal.

"Hang tight - I'll be back in two shakes, love," Killian promised, raising an eyebrow before he headed for the plane's lavatory.

Emma began the process of convincing herself she was more tipsy that she actually was. Drinking too much was the _only_ excuse for the careless nature of her actions. This man had been hitting on her for hours, but it wasn't as if she wasn't leading him right into it. She settled against the headrest of her seat and stared down into her empty glass.

As her mind slipped to thoughts of those sky colored eyes and that thick, silky voice, Emma had a difficult time remembering her purpose for drinking in the first place. It hadn't exactly made anything easier. It hadn't provided for any sort of distraction - well, except the one that drew her eyes to his inviting lips.

She wanted so badly to deny it - she'd been playing at that act since he returned her passport to her back in London. Yet spending the past few hours investigating this infuriating man had shaken her opinion of him a bit. He was interesting. He was _alluring_. He was something - something she wanted to explore further.

Taking a deep breath and tilting her head slightly to the side, Emma pondered the path to doing that. Her fingers flexed against the tumbler as she turned and peered back in the direction he'd gone. The plane was busy with activity, everyone she could see appearing to be wrapped up in conversation or some other diversion. It was hard to ignore how quiet her own space had become with the absence of her unexpected traveling companion. _Oh great_ , Emma thought as she rolled her eyes. Now she was _missing_ him? What the _hell_ had happened here?

Her eyes dropped to his empty seat and immediately, Emma's sight focused in on a small blue object he'd left behind. It was triangle with rounded corners, created out of thick plastic in a hue that resembled the eyes she'd been floundering in for the flight duration thus far. Her knowledge of music wasn't overly extensive, but she knew it was a guitar pick. Henry had a few that she'd found littered around the house since his new stepdad started teaching him to play the guitar.

So Killian was a musician as well - as if the attraction she was fighting off wasn't enough already. Emma wanted to slam her head against the tray table.

She reached for the piece of plastic, feeling its smooth edges between her fingertips as she wondered if he knew he'd dropped it. It didn't seem like something he'd need on a seven hour flight and that conclusion made Emma think he didn't know he even had it in the first place. It _was_ his though. He'd probably want it back. She contemplated her options. He'd be back soon - she could always just give it to him then. Of _course_ she'd just give it to him then. There weren't options here - _that_ was the only one. Well, maybe.

The curve of the plastic pressed into her palm as she rose from her seat, trying to tell herself that this wasn't insane. Emma straightened her posture, making sure she was capable of navigating the short walk despite her libatious indulgence. She was far more coherent and decisive than she should be in a situation such as this one. Emma knew she'd probably kick herself for it later, but her feet seemed to move of their own accord.

The area where the bathrooms were located was concealed and surprisingly vacant. There wasn't a flight attendant or passenger in sight. The lack of attention directed that way made Emma wonder if he was even actually back there. She nearly turned on her heel to return to her seat when he stepped out of enclosed space, rolling his sleeves up and rubbing his eyes halphazardly. His choice of shirt was black and red, the plaid pattern emphasizing the darkness of his hair and the shadow of his features in the dim light.

 _God_ , he was good looking. That was the last thought to fill her head before she continued her movement toward him - only this time, it was with _far_ more certainty.

"Swan?"

He halted, barely a few paces from the lavatory door when he spotted her. His eyes were an endearing mix of concerned and confused. Emma paused for a fraction of a second, fusing her gaze to his before she stormed toward him. She knew what she wanted. She knew she'd regret it if she _didn't_ do it. She'd deal with the backlash later.

"Emma, what are you-"

She gripped his bicep, the feel of his muscular arm under her touch making her skin tingle. Since she'd known him, he'd never looked more attentive. Killian ran his tongue over his lower lip in a way that caused her to snap. Emma's lips quirked into a soft smile as a decision made its way to the surface of her thoughts. She should have done this _hours_ ago.

* * *

Killian ripped his sweater off, tugging the alcohol drenched fabric over his head with a soft grunt. The task was a bit challenging considering the amount of rum he'd taken in over the course of his conversation with the girl he was still trying to figure out. The small, immobile space the aircraft dared to qualify as a bathroom wasn't helping matters much either. It was hard to move or focus in such hazy circumstances - but even Killian knew that his befuddled actions were a result of much more than just the rum. He'd hoped a drink or two might distract him, but the plan had somehow gone slightly awry.

Emma Swan, however, was becoming a distraction of a whole other sort.

He shook his head at the idea and turned on the tap, allowing a weak stream of water to spray into the sink. Killian reached down to splash a handful onto his face. The moisture was cool on his face and he sighed heavily, trying to will away the idea of what he wanted to do so he could replace it with the knowledge of what he _should_ do. The watch of his wrist taunted him with the remaining hours of the flight - the continued counting of minutes where he'd have to keep his imagination _and_ his hands to himself. This flight was turning out to be torturous on a level he hadn't expected.

He unfolded the shirt, shaking it out so he could slip it on. It was wrinkled and a bit worn out, but it wasn't soaked in alcohol so it would have to do. Killian ran a stressed hand through his hair before bracing his hands on the sink to take in a deep breath. He could do this. Well, he could _try_. That would have to be enough.

He'd barely stepped out of the lavatory when his eyes found her. His deft fingers were in the process of turning a sleeve over itself so he could push it up out of the way when the stare she gave him prompted him to pause. She seemed to zero in on his actions, pursing her lips in a way that made his pulse quicken.

"Swan?"

His feet froze in place as a look of complete and total bewilderment overtook him. He watched her hesitate, fighting some unknown internal battle before she moved toward him once again - this time with what appeared to be a very direct sense of purpose.

"Emma, what are you-"

He nearly stumbled as she grabbed him by the arm, pulling him toward her as she hurried back toward the door he'd just closed. He observed as she glanced from side to side and then mirrored her method, barely completely his stealthy observation before she shoved him back into the lavatory. Emma moved fast as she turned away, one palm flush against the door as the fingers of her opposite hand clicked the lock. She stilled for a second, looking as if she was listening for any sign that they'd been spotted. Finally, she let go of a heavy breath and prepared herself to look back to him.

Killian couldn't be totally sure, but as he caught her gaze, he was almost positive he'd never seen such a dark and determined green in his life.

"Emma," he said softly, shocked he'd actually found his voice. "W-what are you doing?"

"I, uh, I'm not..."

She seemed to fumble through her vocabulary, the words she wanted not showing themselves. Killian felt his spirit sink a bit as he was sure whatever had been about to occur was now gone. He tried not to pout too obviously, but it was a bit disappointing considering the _many_ wonderful ways this _could_ have gone. Just as he began the slow spiral into a missed opportunity, she livened - and he furrowed his eyebrows in anticipation of what she was about to say.

"Killian," she breathed, her eyes wide and a smirk curling up one side of her mouth. "I just..."

He swallowed hard, trying not to get his hopes up among other things as she moved into his space. She was clearly much more sober than he'd imagined. She'd planned this to some extent and that realization was a sweet one.

"You just..."

"Just-" she attempted, biting her lip in a last ditch effort to pause. "-just shut your _damn_ confident mouth and kiss me."

Of all the things she could have said, she picked that one. Killian blinked hard several times, allowing the demand to process before he repeated the seductive look he'd already given her much more than he should. His hands moved quickly, landing on opposing sides of her jaw as he stared down at her. He watched her submit, the color looking back at him melting to a lighter shade as her lips parted in waiting. He studied the movement of her mouth for a minute before he realized what a fool he was being. With utmost intent, he adjusted his stance so he was closer. He leaned in, allowing his nose to graze hers as she bit her lip. Yeah, she _wanted_ this - _maybe_ even as much as he did. _Only one way to find out_ , he mused silently.

"Well," he almost whispered before descending forward. "As you _wish_."


	3. Chapter 3

**Alright :] here it is. There's a whole lot of Killian in this chapter, but hopefully that won't both anyone haha. Enjoy! All characters/rights belong to OUAT.**

* * *

This was insane. Totally, one hundred percent, straight up _crazy_.

A steep altitude that stretched into the state of soaring over the ocean - those were the sort of poetic words that were _supposed_ to take her home. She'd prepared for the sight that such a description could bring. When she'd walked into the airport hours earlier, Emma had been prepared for the usual sights and details. The whole trip had been planned down to the last pack of airplane peanuts or whatever the hell they were handing out on flights these days - but this...well, _this_ could definitely be considered as veering off course.

It was strange how alone she felt once he'd gone to change his shirt. Emma didn't realize just how much she'd been enjoying - err, _tolerating_ his company. She knew once he returned from the lavatory, his attention would be firmly glued on her. Honestly, his gaze had hinged on her every move longer than she was willing to address - even though she'd slowly been learning to deal with it. Emma allowed her head to press back against the seat and she adjusted her position for the hundredth time. It had been getting more and more difficult to deny this unexpected tension building between them, but the detour to the back of plane that she was so impulsively about to decide on would make it damn near impossible. Yeah, it was _that_ kind of choice that would lead her toward a whole new destination - one that came with far too many questions and oh so limited answers. Emma's feet moved by themselves, the earlier shake of the plane knocking some sense into her and her steps carrying her in that bold direction without another thought.

She wasn't prepared to be trapped in her footsteps by his stare as he paused at the top of the aisle - that dark, deep, crystal blue one. Oh and that _damn_ plaid shirt - _that_ was the final drop dead _handsome_ straw.

"Swan?"

She jumped involuntarily as his voice shook her gently from a distracted daze, the one she'd inevitably found herself sinking in as her eyes met his. It took a moment for the panic to fill her body as she realized she _wasn't_ imagining this. She wasn't shifting around in her uncomfortable seat, awaiting his witty and quite likely heated return. She'd _actually_ gone to find him - and here he was. Now what the _hell_ was she going to do?

His expression held a mix of confusion and intrigue, the whole look tied together with the slightest bit of anticipation. He had only just exited the lavatory at an almost concealed part of the plane and he stood stationary as he waited for her to say something. His tongue was restless on his lower lip as he appeared to study her. She wasn't surprised - he'd been trying to learn her since she sat down next to him up in the high and mighty business class. She watched his mouth part and her skin tingled as she teetered on his words that never came.

This vacation had been something of a test - a challenge to test new waters and do things she'd normally not consider. As Emma recalled the principle purpose of her trip, she reminded herself that it wasn't over just yet...and Killian Jones could _very_ easily be one of those things she would have _never_ contemplated before London.

"Emma, w-what are you doing?"

Shaking her head softly, she blinked her eyes furiously as she stalked toward him. Her fingers curled hard around his arm and she jerked him toward the just barely closed door with a little less finesse than she'd planned. Her mind set into an ironic autopilot state as she peered quickly to her sides before pulling him into the lavatory behind her. She shuffled around him in the small space, not missing the way his breath brushed across her neck when she leaned forward to snap down the lock on the door. The sound made her halt for a moment and she took a deep breath, hearing a similar sound from the man behind her. God, she felt like she was on _fire_.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Emma immediately held up a finger to cut him off. She was flat out unable to handle the way her name rolled off his beautifully accented tongue again.

"I, uh, I'm not..."

Oh _hell_ \- this wasn't going at _all_ like she'd planned. Of course, her only strategy when she vacated her seat had been to find Killian and maybe check to see if he still had that look in his eyes. But now she _was_ with him - in the lavatory of a _freaking_ Boeing 787 with nothing but her poorly thought out plan keeping her upright.

"Killian," she tried again, the words escaping through a hard breath. "I just..."

"You just..."

"Just-" she finally blurted out. "-just shut your _damn_ confident mouth and kiss me."

The look on his face was priceless in every sense of the word. He exhaled shakily as his hands moved to her cheeks and his touch tempted her to give in. Her eyes fluttered close as the warmth radiating from him moved closer, his heated breath lacing the words that made her entire body tingle.

"Well, as you wish."

His lips were the softest kind of smooth and they pressed firmly into hers. Emma felt his fingertips graze her jaw intently, teasing her skin as he seemed to breathe her in. It didn't take long for the instance to grow heated or for Emma to be completely fine with that fact. Killian's tongue parted her lips quickly and Emma tilted her head submissively, allowing him to take control of the kiss. It was unlike her - she had never been the type to give up the reins so easily. There was some reason - some little _something_ \- that made kissing Killian Jones different from anyone else. It was confusing. It was _riveting_.

It happened so fast that Emma was almost sure she'd imagined the sound - but then it happened _again_. A subtle moan came from his throat and his hips flexed into hers suggestively as his kiss deepened. Emma's mind reeled with the knowledge of exactly how she was affecting him. Her hands moved to the collar of his shirt, the flannel fabric smooth under her fingertips as she pulled him closer. Killian turned them slightly, his hands firm on her lower back as he adjusted his position in the small space expertly. Emma bumped against the sink and its adjoining counter with a soft whimper. He tangled his grip into her hair, supporting the back of her head as he pulled his teeth down her lower lip with a soft nibble. Emma couldn't help the gasp that left her mouth, a sound that made him smirk against her lips.

God, _what_ was she even _doing?_

She tried to force her brain to function properly as his scorching kiss moved down her jaw and to her neck, his tempting teeth threatening to pay the utmost attention to her collarbone. Her head was so fuzzy and that little detail intensified as the kiss began to escalate. His hands were everywhere within seconds and Emma wrapped her arms around his neck as she forced him back to her lips. The resumed kiss was slower, but the passion that had originally ignited it was still heavy in the air. It was a moment of truth - and one that was abruptly shaken by a spot of turbulence.

She'd found herself clinging to him in quite an involuntary manner as the air outside toyed with the path of the plane. He had that stimulated expression and those strong, caring hands - ones that would surely protect her if she'd allow it. The plane shifted again in some sort of an omen that she shouldn't - not _here_ and not like this.

This sort of turbulence was different - the emotional kind that she totally sucked at. She wondered if he did too.

A muffled announcement directed passengers to find their seats to ride out the bumpy flight. Emma blinked fiercely, removing herself from his dangerous yet oh so safe proximity. He looked wrecked in the most unfair way. It was completely obvious - he wanted her. He wanted her _bad_. Her mind considered the fact that perhaps she felt the same way.

 _No_ \- this was stupid. _Even_ if she did, it sure as _hell_ wasn't enough to join the cliched 'Mile High Club' with a guy she barely knew.

"Don't follow me," she gasped, running a hand through her hair and straightening her posture. "Wait five minutes and be careful when you open the door."

He didn't give any sign of compliance, but she didn't stick around long enough to see if he eventually would. The door shut quietly behind her and she gave a stealthy glance to each side before heading back to her seat. She searched for the explanation she'd need when he sat back down while simultaneously fiddling with her seatbelt. Her thoughts were at tangled as the buckling straps, a fact that was only magnified by his reappearance.

She silently begged him to stay silent and he surprisingly granted the request with a loud sigh. Emma couldn't even begin to figure out why or how he had this effect on her, but she wasn't sure if she was ready to analyze her lack of understanding just yet.

The lack of conversation between them was a mutual understanding and he gave her a quick smirk that told her he'd try to be okay with it. Emma knew she needed to sort through the past few hours - and she would - but first, she needed to sleep off her daytime drinking and the insecurities that followed. She waited out the worst of turbulence in the only manner she could do so - distracted and exhausted. Her consciousness lessened slowly as a state of rest overtook her, but not before her head landed gently on his shoulder. She felt his frame adjust to accommodate her decision and Emma couldn't help but think how her choice of pillow could potentially make a rough flight just a _little_ easier.

* * *

The transatlantic flight he'd made several times in his life had never felt shorter - and no, for _once_ , this wasn't a good thing.

The kiss had been shocking on every single level Killian could imagine. Honestly, he'd been trying to avoid thinking of her that way - it wasn't fair to his recently broken heart to believe that someone like Emma Swan might want him. He'd been working hard to convince himself that nobody would after the break up, but those lips of hers were persuading him in the opposite direction. The situation in the lavatory had been heated and almost _too_ arousing - a moment that quickly turned into much more than just a kiss. Killian had no idea how far she would take things and he sure as hell wasn't about to argue. He _loved_ kissing her. He would gladly entertain the possibility of doing much more than just kissing her.

No, _no_ \- he shouldn't be that way. Not yet. _Not_ with Emma. Not when he wanted much more from her than an indecent interaction in an airplane lavatory.

When she put a fast stop to things, he wasn't exactly sure how to feel. He could have kissed her for hours. He _wanted_ to kiss her for several hours. Killian barely caught the hesitation in the dark green of her gaze as she moved back. He was almost sure that inch of uncertainty was enough to pull her lips to his again.

Turbulence, however, wasn't going to allow him to find out. The unsteady rumble of the plane caused her eyes to go wide as she gripped his arms with alarmed hands. It took every bit of restraint he had to avoid holding her close - to keep him from telling her that he wouldn't let her fall. He didn't know much about Emma, but he knew she wasn't the type to depend on promises like that one - especially coming from a stranger. Well, an _almost_ stranger...supposing that's what he was.

The second the seatbelt sign dinged back on, the voice over the intercom prompted passengers to return to their seats. Emma had removed herself from his space at the instruction with the demand of him not trailing after her for a few minutes. His mouth had been left agape and when the door clicked shut upon her exit, Killian let go of the deep breath he didn't know he was holding. His eyes jerked toward the mirror to find his hair messier than usual, his cheeks red with lust, and a few of his shirt buttons haphazardly undone. He definitely had to regain some shred of composure before he could head back to his seat.

The signal overhead sounded again, reminding him that the rough patch of air the plane was passing through wasn't behind them yet. He cleared his throat and peeked out toward the aisles, moving quickly so as not to be noticed. His jaunt back up to business class was a nervous one and he wondered what he was supposed to say when he found himself at her side again. Peering around the corner to their pair of seats, he noticed just how nervous she was too. He smirked anxiously when he flopped back against the headrest. She gave him that look, the one that begged him to keep his speech to himself. Biting his lip, he nodded and sighed heavily at the reluctant conclusion of the kiss being a one time thing.

 _Like hell,_ he thought as he tried to figure out a way around the towering wall she'd probably spent years building.

He didn't expect the way she'd reach for his wrist when the plane began to shake again, a reaction that seemed scared yet trusting. He didn't plan on the way she'd eventually doze off, her head dropping down onto his shoulder as he smiled to himself. He didn't anticipate the way he wouldn't want the plane to land or the way he would suddenly begin to loathe the idea of his feet back on solid ground.

After the whirlwind of a day he'd had with this woman, Killian wasn't even sure that the surface underfoot would be all that firm anyway.

They filtered off the plane, moving in poorly organized rows as Killian tried to keep close behind her. He fought the instinctive urge to reach for her hand and pull her to his side, limiting her distance so the departure from the aircraft wouldn't cause him to lose her. The thought _was_ a bit ridiculous - it wasn't possible to lose something you didn't have. No, Emma Swan wasn't even _close_ to his. The realization made his stomach tangle with his nerves, provoking something that felt an awful lot like fear but held the smallest sliver of regret.

There was only one of those things he could control - and he _had_ to try. Killian's impending future was a thousand shades of uncertain, but this encounter was the only thing that had felt right since his old life collapsed. There was no way he could rely on coincidence after a kiss like that. Killian knew as he watched her blonde hair bounce against her shoulders and her purposeful walk that there wasn't a chance in deepest depths of hell that he was about to leave everything up in the air.

He couldn't _hope_ to run into her again - he _needed_ to. He had to make it happen.

The open space near the baggage claim area wasn't the best place to say what he so desperately needed to, but the impatience of other passengers accompanied by his growing fear that she was about to bolt didn't offer many options. His hands were frozen at his sides so he quickly elected to rely on his voice - no matter how unstable it sounded.

"Emma, I..."

He hadn't meant for his voice to waver. It seemed to trail off without reason as she turned to face him. Her eyes were wide, full of a brilliant green that burned with some intention he didn't recognize. It _was_ there though - a burning, complex emotion that he could only imagine exploring.

"Yeah," she sighed, a weak smile on her lips. "I, uh...look, you don't have to say anything, Killian-"

"But I _want_ to."

Her gaze flickered with curiosity. Killian watched attentively as she inhaled cautiously and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His brain went cloudy as he realized he definitely wanted to say _something_ \- he just didn't know what.

"I know that this seems crazy..."

She smirked at that, proof that she'd likely been thinking the same thing. His heart quickened as he contemplated the idea that perhaps they were on the same page about more than just that.

"I just...I guess I don't really know what I'm trying to say," he admitted, trying to shield the panic in his expression. "But I know I don't want to be that guy to you."

"Oh - well...exactly what kind of guy is it that you are referring to?"

"The kind you met by accident and then met again by chance in the same airport," he explained, scratching gently behind his ear with a nervous grin. "The guy who ruined your sweater and coerced you into a reluctant game of twenty questions on a seven hour flight. The guy you...kissed...for a reason that he's still not aware of."

His teeth found his lower lip, stifling a grin as he waited for her retort. She scoffed at his words, a slight blush warming her cheeks. The way her entire body seemed to lighten and the soft semblance of a smile he was able to observe moved Killian in a way he didn't know to be possible. He wanted to lose himself in that look of possibility - fleeting as it may be.

"So you're saying you want us to run into one another again," she deduced, hesitation evident in her tone. "But perhaps on purpose...instead of the alternative."

Killian's pulse was heavy in his ears. Was she _offering?_ He tried with everything he had to keep his excitement in check.

"Well, yeah. I guess that's what-"

"Hold that thought."

He swallowed his words as her sight seemed to locate something. _Ah - her suitcase_ , he thought as she moved toward the slowly revolving baggage carousel. A sense of exasperation overcame him and Killian was reminded once again why carry-on was the only way to go.

 _But then again,_ he mused as his mind and eyes wandered after her. She bent down ever so slightly, her jeans hugging her curves as she peered past a few people in search of it. Killian tried desperately to keep his head clear, but it was difficult to ignore the way she was standing.

God, _this_ is what his disrupted life had come to - checking out the hot girl at baggage claim like some pathetic, pubescent teenage boy. Actually, Emma was better described as a woman - and a beautiful one at that.

"Alright, Swan," he tried, his tone sweet as he moved to her side. "Which one is yours?"

"The red one," she told him, her eyes focused as the bag moved closer. "But I've got it."

He wasn't surprised honestly - he'd gleaned that Emma was that strong mix of stubborn and independent much earlier in the day. Whether her strong will preferred it or not, Killian was nothing if not a man of good form.

"Killian, no it's _fine_ -"

"No-" he replied, grabbing the suitcase and lifting it effortlessly. "-it's _not_."

"Ah," Emma acknowledged, brushing his hand as she reached for the bag's handle. "So _now_ you're going to be a gentleman?"

"I'm _always_ a gentleman."

She smirked, narrowing her eyes comically in a gesture he matched. A silence fell between them, one he didn't like in the least. The quiet would allow her the chance to leave or the opportunity to tell him no. He couldn't have that - not when he'd spent the past handful of hours thoroughly entertained and enthralled with her presence.

"Emma, I-"

The flimsy tag from her luggage snagged on his watch and removed itself from the handle, tumbling to the floor. He reached for it, remembering the way he'd already walked this road with her passport back in London. The little parallels he kept encountering seemed to support the idea that this wasn't it for them - there _had_ to be something more. He snagged the informative tag from the tile under their feet, holding it carefully and trying to avoid investigating the details the label could offer.

" _God_ \- sorry, love..."

Her sight looked past him, focusing on someone or something just behind him. He couldn't explain why, but something told him whatever had caught her attention wasn't going to work in his favor.

"Ah, Emma, is it? What a _lovely_ name."

The sudden interrupting voice shot ice through Killian's vein in a way he couldn't fathom. Emma's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she watched his stare grow wide. There was _no_ way. This was _not_ happening. He didn't need this. He didn't _want_ it. He was standing in an airport almost three thousand miles away from his past and somehow...some way, it had found him. Bloody _hell_.

Killian gave her his most apologetic eyes, not knowing exactly what was about to happen as he spun on his heel. His glare fell quickly upon the one person he had zero desire to see or speak to. If haunted had a face, it was the one that belonged to this man.

"Gold."

* * *

Emma stood outside the airport, rocking back and forth on the curb as she tried to dissect the last twenty four hours. She'd gone from grateful traveler to intrigued passenger, sliding right over to wanton seductress with nothing but a few heated glances and innuendo laced words. Killian Jones had brought out a side of her she didn't know she had - a side that was as impulsive as it was fearless. Emma was by no means a coward, but she shuddered a bit in the face of emotional bravery.

Vulnerability was _exactly_ what those blue eyes and that accented tone has coaxed her into - and she wasn't sure what that meant. Perhaps not much seeing as how she was now by herself, the typical victim to her own insecurities.

But honestly, what was she expecting to happen? It wasn't like she would see him again after this.

As strange as the whole day with this man had been, none of it rivaled the last five minutes before he faded into the crowd with the mystery man. The guy who interrupted the conversation she and Killian didn't get to finish had been suspicious and a little creepy for lack of a better explanation. Emma hadn't missed the way the man's sudden presence seemed to torment Killian - and she had the strangest desire to know why. She had to wonder if it had something to do with the broken soul he seemed to harbor, the one that had pulled her in to begin with. She could see it when he looked at her with that honest blue stare - Killian was something of a kindred spirit.

She turned to look back at the glass doors for a moment, wondering where he could be now. She'd left quickly once it became clear this Killian had some form of unfinished business with this man who had appeared so unexpectedly. Lingering wasn't going to help - especially when the guy who always had something to say had suddenly lost his overly Irish ability to taunt and tempt.

A loud honk snapped Emma out of her speculation and she had to grin at the arrival of her car, the yellow Bug she'd driven for years. Behind the wheel was her best friend and the girl who was responsible for the plane ticket that had been the start of all this.

"Emma!"

Ruby vacated the driver's seat the second the car came to a stop. She rounded the vehicle to where Emma was waiting, flinging her arms around her friend's neck in a welcome home gesture that would probably never be totally predictable.

" _Oh_ \- hey Rubes," Emma laughed, moving toward the car and accepting the hug being offered. "It's good to see you too."

"We've missed you, Em," Ruby grinned. "How was your trip?"

There were so many words she could chose in that moment - amazing, liberating, beautiful, unbelievable. None of them seemed to fit.

"Very... _interesting_ ," she finally said with a silent decision. "How were things here?"

"Oh you know," Ruby shrugged, opening the back door of the car so Emma could load her suitcase. "Same old, same old. August has been holding down business at the bar and Henry's great. He seemed okay with staying at Regina's while you were gone."

"That's good," Emma replied, pulling open the passenger side to get in. "I think it's been helpful to have Regina's new man around - it's good for Henry to have someone else around other than his two mothers."

"Yeah, I think it's been good for _everyone_ ," Ruby chuckled, shifting the car into gear. "So tell me about the trip! I want to hear everything."

Emma tried to think of the details of her vacation while simultaneously omitting her Irish traveling companion from the recollection. It was difficult to ponder anything but those blue eyes - ones she didn't know if she'd see again. It was a sobering thought and a notion she wasn't fully prepared to accept yet.

"I met a guy."

 _Dammit_. That wasn't exactly the first thing she wanted to share about her trip across the pond.

Ruby hit the brakes a little harder than necessary, glancing sideways at Emma as she waited. Emma bit her lip as she fought off the impending grin. Her heart pounded harder in her chest as she awaited the thousands of questions that could be flung in her direction.

"Oh, uh," Ruby stammered, her intrigue piqued. "A... _guy?"_

"Yeah," Emma breathed, a smirk finding her lips. "A guy."

The car pulled onto the freeway, filled with a silence that probably wouldn't last. Honestly, it was up to Emma - Ruby could be a little nosy, but she never was about this sort of thing. Emma allowed her mind to turn with the events of the day as she sorted out the ones she was actually going to share with her friend. Touching her lips gently, she remembered the kiss - the scorching, tender, mind blowing kiss. It almost felt like a dream - a really, really good dream.

"So," Ruby said cautiously. "Is there anything else you'd like to add to that?"

Maybe, Emma thought. There was plenty to tell when it came to Killian Jones. Now she just had to figure out what she was willing to admit - and not just to Ruby but to herself. Without a doubt, the second part of that task would be the hardest.

* * *

Killian had been through quite the rotation of emotions and tortured states of mind over the past couple of weeks. He'd been sad - well, devastated was probably a better term. He'd been lethargic and multiple types of exhausted, likely symptoms of his depressive spiraling. He had even spent a fair amount of time in a phase of indifference where hope was nothing but a far off illusion. Grief, guilt, embarrassment - he had spun back and forth through each one more than once.

One thing he hadn't really allowed himself to be over the course of his broken hearted days was flat out, fuming, vengeful, take-zero-explanations angry. There was a time and place for that - and that time and place had just been created by the last man he wanted to see.

"Forgive me for being forward," Killian began in a clipped tone. "But what the hell are you doing here?"

"Now that's no way to treat the man who made you a best-selling author," Gold smiled, raising his glass of some infernal alcohol. "I'm here to share a drink with you - I suddenly find myself _quite_ thirsty."

"You'll have to forgive me if I'm not anxious to indulge with you," Killian snapped, glancing down at the rum he was refusing to drink. "How'd you even know I was here?"

"When you use your frequent flier miles - or rather the _company's_ frequent flier miles - to book a ticket to the states, it's not difficult to get the details on where you're headed," Gold explained. "The question is why - why are you in Boston, Jones?"

"I don't see why that's any concern of yours," Killian retorted. "Similar to the way that what I do is no longer _any_ of your business. Any and all money I've spent on leaving London _and_ Dublin behind for a little while is _mine_ so don't feed me that rubbish about using company money."

"Oh please, Killian," he taunted, rubbing his hands together. "You're _my_ client and a huge source of interest for many readers. Your every _move_ is on my radar, Jones."

"You've got other clients you could be worrying about."

"You're right," he nodded, glaring across the table. "In fact, I've just come from New York where I met with several prospective writers - talent that could very well replace you if you're really that...unhappy."

"Are you going to tell me what you want?"

"Well, since you'd like to skip the pleasant small talk," Gold sighed, twirling the glass in his hand. "The higher ups are curious as to whether or not this little trip of yours has something to do with your next book. It appears they've grown a bit skeptical of your impulsive actions."

"I suppose this is your doing?"

"Most things are."

"I told you - it's personal," Killian said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I don't see why _my_ choice to take a break is _your_ problem."

"Everyone has a choice, Killian - just make sure it's the right one."

"I'll be the judge of what's right for me, Gold," he scowled. "I think you've played a large enough part in the choices I've had to make lately - and I don't care to have you weigh in on any of those that remain."

"I suppose you're referring to the last time we spoke," Gold mused, a hint of torment in his eyes. "I'll be sure to send Milah your regards."

"Go to hell."

"Although I hear it's _lovely_ this time of year, I'm planning on returning to London in an few hours instead - something you will also be doing in the near future."

"Excuse me?"

"You've got a week, Jones," he told him, tapping his fingers on the table. "We've got a meeting scheduled with the board in eight days and I will expect you to be there with every ounce of compliance you can muster."

"I told you - I'll be doing this one my own terms."

"No, you _won't_ ," Gold finally growled. "Your livelihood as an author is something that exists purely on _my_ terms. I've made a deal for the advance on your next book in return for your appearance as this meeting - and as you know, I _never_ break a deal."

 _Like hell you don't,_ Killian thought as his entire body began to fume. It took every fraction of restraint he could muster to not lunge across the table and break _something_. He'd been too shocked to do so when he'd last run into Gold, especially since that last interaction had been upon his early return home from the book tour. He had spent weeks avoiding this man and his publishing company as well. He knew it would catch up to him eventually - he just hadn't expected it to happen like this.

"One week, Killian," Gold warned, sliding him a set of keys. "I took the liberty of renting a car for you - Mr. Locksley was surprised to learn that you had a meeting scheduled before traveling to his little town, but I assured him you'd be on your way the moment we concluded our rather simple negotiations."

Of course he'd call Robin - of course he'd figure out that Killian was headed to see his best friend with the pieces of his heart in tow. The interesting part was that he probably didn't get that information from his superb investigation skills. No, facts like those had likely come straight from Milah.

"Anything else?"

"That will be all for now," Gold grinned, tossing back the rest of his drink. "I will see you when you return to England. Travel safe to...Storybrooke, is it?"

Killian swallowed hard, swiping the keys from the table and staring daggers down the man who'd assisted in destroying the life he'd worked so hard to build. He wasn't worth it - this conversation and the strong desire to deck him were things he needed to bury.

"Never underestimate the power of a guilty conscience, Killian," he called after him. "I'll see you soon."

His nerves felt like they were going to snap in half. He stormed off, leaving the bill and his dignity with the man who'd help sell his book while demolishing his happiness. A forced impromptu meeting with Gold had been the last thing he expected to find when the plane landed in Boston - and the first thing he'd wanted to hold on to had walked out of Logan International with nothing but a sad smile about an hour earlier.

God dammit. He wanted to shove his book contract down Gold's throat.

Killian adjusted the hold on the bag slung over his shoulder as he stomped forcefully over to the rental car counter. If Gold wanted to play hard ball, he would be happy to level the playing field.

"So you're Mr. Jones," the man behind the counter said, checking Killian's reservation on the computer. "Is there a problem with the car, sir?"

"No - not at all. I just figured since I'm on holiday, I'd go ahead and spring for something rather... _grand_."

"I see," the man nodded, scrolling through pictures on the computer. "Well, we just got a couple of new cars in on our luxury line, but I have to warn you that the price is a bit steeper than what's on your original agreement here."

"Ah - well fortunately, that matters not," Killian grinned, tapping the key on the hard surface in front of him. "What have you got?"

"We just acquired one of the new models from Mercedes Benz," the man told him excitedly. "It's a black four door coupe-"

"Brilliant - I'll take it."

The worker nodded with an ecstatic grin and typed the changes in on the computer. Killian signed a few documents distractedly, his mind being pulled in many directions by the time he snatched the keys and a pile of receipts from the counter.

"Enjoy your drive, Mr. Jones!"

He peered down at the keys now wrapped around his finger with a smirk. Karma was a temporary fix indeed, but for now, this solution would be enough to get him away from the past that had followed him across the ocean. The brochure he had tucked under his arm even suggested that his escape method was going to be rather swift and even slightly aerodynamic.

He let out a low whistle when he finally spotted it, a bit of the car nerd in him rising the surface. The vehicle chirped as he unlocked it, tossing his bag onto the back seat and lowering himself into the driver's seat as he examined the immaculate interior. He took a deep breath, relishing in the new car smell and the success of the slightest revenge on Gold. Leaning his head against the seat, he remembered for a moment what he'd lost by running into that man - and he quickly realized it was _much_ more than what he'd taken from him back in Dublin.

 _Emma Swan,_ he thought with a disappointed sigh. After the day he spent chasing, coaxing, and chance meeting that woman, she was gone in an instant. She had been this flicker of light or hope or _something_ \- something that could pull him from the darkness with the smallest effort. His mind was pondering a pity party when he remembered it - the folded, stepped on, slightly damaged luggage tag he'd retrieved from the floor. It had been yanked from her bag in a moment of clumsiness - one he was now thanking himself for. He dug his hand into his pocket, adjusting his position so he could remove it as carefully as possible.

The corners were folded and it was definitely one of the cheaply made tags the airlines stick in a bin next to the ticketing lines. He smiled at the idea of Emma filling it out before she checked her suitcase. He furrowed his eyebrows, making out the curves of her name and the way they'd been scrawled with a black pen. Apparently that particular writing tool was one that smeared rather easily and he frowned at how most of her address was smudged out. He bit his lip with annoyance as he flipped the tag over to find exactly what he was looking for. His heart jumped into his throat as his eyes went wide. His teeth relented, allowing his grin to stretch the width of his expression.

There it _was_ \- serendipity in the form of a ten digit code. He had to laugh out loud at his luck. He had Emma Swan's _phone_ _number_ \- and another quickly acquired reason to believe in the power of coincidence.


	4. Chapter 4

**Alright, this one's a bit long, but I wanted to start getting to the good part :] enjoy! The next one will be up soon - working on it now! All rights/characters belong to OUAT. I own nothing.**

* * *

The bar could wait. Emma had been lectured with those words more than once on the way back to Storybrooke and then again when Ruby finally dropped her off at home. The statement had been leveraged a final time when she'd called August to check in on things, his tone telling her he had everything under control - just like he _always_ did. She was lucky to have this support system that a life in Storybrooke had lent her. There were a number of people who would and had gladly stepped in to help with the many details that applied to Emma making this town her new home. She appreciated it to no end - but it didn't make giving up control any easier.

She'd spent so much of her existence depending on nobody but herself and for the most part, it had been a functional way to live. Emma had believed for longer than she could remember that there were some people who were just meant to be alone and that she was unfortunately a member of that select group. It was a mantra she'd finally adopted - don't trust anyone and you won't get hurt. All in all, it was a flawless approach to keeping people at a distance - but then Henry found her.

He'd been all big brown eyes and that toothy grin, perhaps just as lost as she was at his age only with a cheerful spirit she didn't think he'd inherited from her. She was sure it was a joke when he turned up on her doorstep - a mistake or misunderstanding that would be wiped away as soon as she took him back to that little town in Maine where he'd come from. Emma now had a few years of promising, adjusting, and even crying under her belt to show just how wrong she'd been about leaving it all behind. In the long run, she realized it was one of the only times she'd ever been happy to be incorrect.

Henry had changed her. He pushed her to believe and to hope in a way she never had before. She'd become a mother - and a pretty good one at that - as well as a stable business owner over the past five years. She had friends - people who were more like family than anything else. When she gave him up for adoption all those years ago, she'd done it to give him his best chance. It was only by delightful twist of irony that he was now doing the same thing for her.

Emma tugged her suitcase up the short flight of stairs, unzipping it and tossing the variety of clothes on her laundry room floor. She'd get to that later - probably when she needed a mindless distraction to keep her mind off you-know-who. Of course, that was assuming she wouldn't _want_ to think about him. As of right now, she couldn't make that commitment.

She shoved the door to Henry's empty bedroom open, flipping on the light before heaving her luggage in behind her. Her now teenage son stayed over a few times during the week, but more often on the weekends. Emma had made sure when she'd gone house hunting to find a place that would provide Henry with a bedroom for himself, something she'd never had growing up. It was something she took the utmost pride in - trivial as it may be.

Once she'd finally accepted Henry and the years she had to make up for with him, it was a somewhat sad realization to think of just how much she'd missed. She never got to see him go through all those little phases growing up - learning to tie his shoes, his first day at school, and all the awkwardness that came with him shifting into that delicate yet uncomfortable preteen stage. Giving him his own bedroom allowed her a glimpse into that life she hadn't been around for - the one where his interests were constantly evolving from fairytales to comic books to classic novels to god know whatever would come next. Emma supposed she should be thankful that his sporadic changes in reading preference were the only thing she had to keep up with. Well, _so_ far anyway.

Henry didn't keep the extra walk-in closet too full, allowing extra space for storing a few suitcases and obscure storage boxes. Emma wheeled the luggage that had followed her to and from London toward the shelves and quickly lifted it to place on the top surface. As she stretched on her toes with her arms extended high, the cool air from the closet brushed against the bare skin that was revealed across her lower abdomen. Emma shivered a bit, smoothing her shirt back down as she recalled the similar scene she'd witnessed on the plane. Of course, in that instance, it had been Killian doing the reaching - and that was a sight for the _sorest_ eyes. Her mind flashed with the way the sweater had lifted just enough to suggest the muscular physique that was just beneath the fabric. Part of her lamented the fact that she'd never gotten a better view. Maybe if she _had_...wait, _no_ \- this was the train of thought she was _not_ going to travel. Not tonight.

Plodding back down the steps, Emma debated calling August. The increase in adrenaline she'd experienced up in the air had been followed by a rather comfortable albeit short nap - a fact that had tossed aside the possibility of any jet lag. She could always drop by the bar for a few hours. Emma sighed heavily at the idea. Although the thought of drowning herself in the business of selling alcohol was tempting, she'd been warned against a premature return to work. Turning her sights to a sturdy box on her kitchen table wasn't intentional, but it turned out to be the distraction she was looking for.

A few times a year, August's grandfather - the only relative either of them had ever been able to track down - sent over a box of his countryside winery's newest labels. The bottles made their way from the little vineyard half a world away in Tuscany, always accompanied by a parchment notecard with the same beautiful calligraphy laced sentiment. She smiled as she held the familiar words between her fingertips.

 _ **La verita' è nel vino**  
In wine, there is truth._

 _Con Affetto, Marco_

Emma had always loved that phrase - and the humorous fact that he still translated it for her every time before signing his name. She'd only met grandpa Marco once before, but he always asked about her and Henry when he called. August had taken Emma under his wing for a number of years in foster care, always managing to keep an eye out for her. Emma liked the idea of her rather protective foster brother having an actual relative who could check in on him too - even if he lived roughly four thousand miles away. Lucky for her, Marco seemed to care for her just as much as August did. Having a real family wasn't something Emma had experience with, but the love and security of an overly sweet, surrogate grandfather wasn't something she was about to turn down.

Truth. Emma pondered the word as she pulled the four bottles from the box, running the pad of her finger over each label. That term had always held quite a bit of reality for her. She thrived off honesty and raw facts. Maybe that's why he had captivated her.

God, _why_ was she _still_ thinking about Killian?

Snatching her corkscrew from the adjacent countertop, Emma set about opening the closest bottle - a cabernet sauvignon that looked a bit like an excellent one he'd sent before. She found a glass in the cupboard, holding it at a delicate angle as she poured a healthy amount. She journeyed to the living room, plopping down on the couch with a sigh.

Killian _Jones_. Her mind begged for permission to wander and honestly, it was stupid to keep denying it - he obviously wasn't going away. One night of speculation wouldn't kill her. Emma took a long, large swallow from her wine glass before sinking back against a pillow.

She wondered where he'd gone - what his final destination was. He was probably up to something in Boston. She was annoyed with herself for not asking. But even if she had, then what? It's not like she was going to see him again.

Emma tried to settle with that fact as she stared down at the dwindling wine in her glass. She shifted around after a moment, attempting to find comfort in the familiar coziness of her sofa rather than her thoughts. The back of her thigh bumped against a hard object and she realized there was something stuck between the couch cushions.

Her fingers fumbled for it, tugging hard on what was soon revealed to be a book. She smiled as he traced the gold embossed letters of the title with her thumb - Peter Pan. _Henry_ , she mused with a soft laugh. He'd been working his way back through reading a bunch of the old classics lately and this discovery was evidence of him likely dozing off on the couch midchapter. Emma had never been a fan of fairytales - the idea of the insistent happy ending was a bit unbelievable in her eyes. Reading though - that was something she'd found quite a bit of solace in over the years.

Suddenly, she remembered. The _book._ The bestselling book. _Killian's_ book. Her eyes scanned the room in search of the laptop that usually rested on the coffee table. Locating it on the recliner within reaching distance, she stretched for it and propped it open on her lap.

What was she even looking for? She didn't know the name of the book - but she _did_ know the name of the rather mysterious author. She typed his name into the search bar and gasped at the speedy results.

There he was - and _god_ , he was handsome. His hair was shorter in this photograph, but still maintained that messy dark state. He was smiling, but not in that smirking manner she'd seen so much of. No, this was a _real_ smile - deep dimples and a flash of those brilliantly white teeth. Her mind recalled the way those same teeth had been assaulted by the continuous swipe of his tongue and the manner in which he used them to bite his lower lip nervously back on the plane. Her breath hitched for a moment when she remembered how they'd skimmed her neckline, the tempting motion that nearly ended her. Then there were those eyes - those penetrating, clever, deep _blue_ eyes. He had the most drowning gaze. There was something hidden there - something to be uncovered and questioned. Shaking her head gently, Emma tried to will that thought away as she studied his biography.

He'd mentioned Ireland as his home and the text confirmed that, some outlying town not far from Dublin. The summary claimed he studied a few years at Oxford, but didn't mention a degree in anything. Maybe writing the book had played some part in not finishing his education there. Apparently, he was even a musician at some point - one who played with a pub band once upon a time. Emma felt her heart race a bit at the idea of this man with any sort of instrument in his hands.

 _Wait_ \- the guitar pick. Her eyes went wide as she reached into her pocket to retrieve the thick piece of plastic. The blue color it had been crafted in was so similar to the one his eyes held. She tried to imagine what it would sound like to hear it pulled across the strings of a guitar. If she was trying to avoid thinking of him in a seductive manner, that was certainly _not_ going to be the way to do it.

She scrolled up and down the page, not sure what she was looking for - until she found it. Her concentration shifted to the tabs along the top, her vision zeroing in on the one with the name of his novel.

 _Lost_ \- By Killian Jones. _Quite vague_ , she thought as her pulse quickened without explanation.

There was a link to the book's description and her cursor hovered over it. As much as she wondered what the story was about, she didn't want to read any sort of summary. She wanted to read the _book_. She didn't want clues or any type of spoiler. For some reason, she wanted to go into it blindly, her mind open and curious - much like she was now permitting it to be about the man who'd authored whatever the book held.

Downing the rest of her wine, Emma wondered if there was anywhere in Storybrooke where she could get her hands on a copy. Maybe she'd swing by the library in the morning and see if Belle had any leads. It was too late to start reading tonight anyway, but some continued research wouldn't hurt.

She spent the next hour or so sifting through the online photo album on his website. There weren't many pictures, but there was definitely plenty to look at. Killian Jones at book signings. Killian Jones at a gala of some sort. Killian Jones in a _suit_. Damn.

Her eyes were weak and slowly losing the ability to stay open by the time she closed the lid of the computer. She picked up the guitar pick from its place on the table, turning it over and over between her fingers. It was a piece of the encounter - of _him_. The thought made her smile as she set her alarm for the following morning.

Maybe an trip to the library before work could fill in a few more blanks for her - and maybe now, she was actually willing to admit that she wanted that.

* * *

"Papa," a soft voice whispered. "Is Uncle Killian _dead?"_

He sure felt like he was. Of course, Killian couldn't be one hundred percent sure - mostly because the hangover swirling around in his head wouldn't give him the luxury of certainty. Even with a splitting migraine and a keen case of light sensitivity, he couldn't help but feel slightly flattered that his favorite four year old kid was genuinely concerned.

"No, Roland," a laughing Robin replied. "He kind of _looks_ like he _wishes_ he was though so let's call it touch and go, my boy. We better get him up, yeah?"

Killian mustered enough energy to crack an eye open. His vision focused slowly but swift enough for him to watch the little boy's head tilt sideways in observation. Roland furrowed his little eyebrows and lit up with a smirk that was far too similar to his father's. Well, _this_ was going to be interesting.

"Good morning, Uncle Killian," Roland smiled cheerfully. "Papa says you aren't going to die. That's good, right?"

"Yeah, I suppose that's fortunate," Killian groaned, glaring at the way his best friend was leaning nonchalantly against the door frame. "Do you really think we should take your father at his word though?"

"Well, _yeah_ ," Roland replied with that what-an-obvious-question tone. "We live by a _code_ , Uncle Killian - plus, lying is bad."

Killian offered a weak yet amused smile, exerting the last of his energy as he pulled the little boy into his tickling arms. Roland fell into a fit of laughs as he wiggled in Killian's embrace. Playing uncle was a task he didn't have a much energy for at the moment, but he was nevertheless pretty elated to see the littlest of the Locksley clan. Roland was a good kid and it warmed his fractured heart to know the boy was genuinely excited to see him.

His drive to Storybrooke had been an emotional roller coaster, one that surprisingly allowed him to keep the sleek wheels of his rental car on the road. The truth was he'd hoped the over the top choice in vehicles might distract him from his meeting with Gold and the depressing thoughts that lingered. They were the same ones that had been haunting him since he left Ireland. Betrayal. Brokenness. _Milah_.

He was so tired of it - _all_ of it. Being reminded of what he'd left behind was getting old very, _very_ fast.

"Alright, Roland - come here," Robin requested, beckoning his son toward him with a grin. "Why don't you run and get your uncle a bottle of water from the kitchen? I reckon his head might need it."

The little boy nodded, exiting the room in a galloping sort of fashion that made Killian chuckle softly. He had to admire the kid's carefree demeanor - perhaps he even envied it a bit. Maybe that genuine state of happiness without question would be contagious. It couldn't hurt to hope so.

"Top of the morning, Jones," Robin said in a robust tone, shaking a bottle of aspirin loudly. "How's about ye, mate?"

Killian cringed a bit at the noise, catching the bottle as Robin tossed it to him. He popped the cap and poured several pills into his hand as he tried to piece together the night before. God, how much _did_ he drink?

"The correct answer is 'I'm completely knackered because I drank my weight in rum last night'. Something along those lines would suffice."

"I feel _fine_ ," Killian grumbled dishonestly, toying with the pills in his hand. "A bit of a stocious evening is all. It isn't a big deal, Rob."

He recalled the way Regina had been conveniently out of the house when he arrived - she'd taken Roland to a movie, presumably to allow the men some time to catch up. A flask in hand and a short jaunt to the docks allowed the perfect circumstances for what Killian felt he really needed - to get rip roaring _drunk_. Well, at least he'd succeeded in that department. His throbbing skull was proof of that.

"Oh, I'd normally agree with you," Robin replied, tilting his head from side to side. "You were more than a _bit_ drunk though - and raging mad too. You carried on for a few hours about Gold and the ambush at the airport."

"I'm guessing my tone was a bit more savage than that?"

Robin smiled, his lips pursed in a straight line of understanding. It was the look Killian had been expecting - the one that told him they'd discuss this at some point. He sighed, rubbing his eyes hard as he tried to calculate how long he could realistically put off that conversation.

"Here you go, Uncle Killian."

Roland reappeared with some water, hoisting the bottle over his head. Killian grabbed the bottle with one hand and reached to mess up Roland's wild, wavy hair with the other. He uncapped it, swallowing most of the water in a single gulp.

"Alright - up and at it, Jones," Robin said, clapping his hands loudly. "Let's grab coffee and then you can walk Roland to school with me."

"Walking? _Really?_ "

He knew the look on his face was pathetic, but going any sort of distance on foot didn't sound too appealing. Robin's purposeful glare told him he was quite serious.

"We'll be downstairs," his friend smirked. "You've got fifteen minutes."

Killian watched Robin lift and throw Roland over his shoulder, the little boy waving as they left the room. He lowered his bare feet to the floor, relieved to see that he hadn't been too smashed the night before to at least remove his shoes. It was good to see he'd actually managed to make it to the guest room - although he had to assume that was more Robin's doing than his own.

The surroundings weren't familiar, but Killian managed to locate an adjoining door. He lifted his exhausted body and plodded toward what he hoped was a bathroom. He decided to forego the light - his vision wasn't ready to brave the brightness. The mirror told him that choice was a wise one. He looked like _hell_. There wasn't time to even minorly solve that with a shower - that would have to be rectified once they finished this little intervention in the form of a stroll.

Killian splashed a bit of water on his face, drying his skin with a towel as he rifled through his bag for his toothbrush. He had to multitask - pulling on a clean shirt and digging his only baseball cap out from the side pocket of his duffel bag. Pulling on a pair of well worn sneakers with a yawn, he trekked toward the stairs.

There wasn't much noise coming from downstairs, but the sounds of preparing to leave the house hit his ears as he rounded the corner. There they were - his best friend and his son, standing mid morning routine in the kitchen. It appeared that Regina had already left for work, but the whole scene was still the picture of domestic. Something about that made Killian the strangest mix of happy and jealous.

"Uncle Killian!"

Roland ran toward him, his eyes bright and ecstatic as if he hadn't seen his uncle of sorts just minutes before. Robin leaned back against the counter, smiling as Killian lifted the little boy into his arms for a hug. He accepted a steaming thermos with his free hand, making an attempt at a gratuitous smile.

"Papa, can we go now?"

"Yeah, I think we're about ready," Robin nodded, checking the leather cuffed watch on his wrist. "We just need to wait for-"

"Alright, I'm ready. Sorry it took me so long. I couldn't find my backpack."

The voice came from the foot of the stairs, startling Killian a bit as he turned to face the sound. He was in the mid sip, the thermos still touching his lips when his eyes met the ones that belonged to the apologetic tone.

"Oh - Killian, _this_ is Henry," Robin introduced, a broad grin on his face. "Henry, this is my friend, Killian."

"Yeah I know," the boy remembered, his eyes bright with some form of recognition. "From...Ireland, right?"

"Aye," Killian replied, clearing his throat and offering a smile. "Nice to meet you, lad."

He'd nearly forgotten about the stepson that had come along with Robin's marriage to Regina. It was strange notion to think he'd ever be able to do such a thing - Robin talked about that kid almost as much as Roland. He was truly elated that his best friend had found himself this little family, one where he had not one but _two_ sons and a future with the woman he loved. Killian had thought he had that once too. Being wrong had a whole new type of sting to it now.

Honestly, if you put Henry and Roland side by side, it would be difficult to see that they weren't actually brothers by blood. The two looked quite similar - both with dark brown hair and bold brown eyes. Killian watched the kid pull on a black jacket over his gray and red hooded sweater, adjusting the drawstrings on the hood with a smirk before he held out a hand to Roland. This whole system they seemed to have set up was so well known that Killian almost felt like an intruder just by being there. He was right smack _dab_ in the middle of a happy ending - it just wasn't his own.

"Come on, Uncle Killian!"

"Yeah, come _on_ , Uncle Killian," Robin teased, mimicking his little boy's words as he slapped his friend on the shoulder. "Fear not, mate - it's not much of a walk."

"I'm sure I'll manage," Killian shot back, narrowing his eyes with a taunt. "But I gotta say this whole gig suits you, Rob. Never thought I'd see you act such a family man."

"Rather grand though, isn't it?"

"That it is, mate," Killian nodded, watching the boys walk ahead of them. "Henry seems like a good kid."

"For certain," Robin agreed, a bit of pride filling his features. "He's taken quite a liking to Roland as well so that's been fortunate. They get on great - Roland gets a bit sad when he isn't around."

Ah, yes - Henry's _other_ mom. It was all coming back to him now. Robin had explained the boy's rather interesting parental situation with having a birth mother _and_ an adoptive mother. Apparently, the whole thing had been quite the ordeal before they'd set up some arrangement that worked for everyone. Killian knew from experience that it took Regina quite some time to warm up to people - that fact had likely played a part in the dilemma that Robin said had been drawn out over a few years.

"I'm glad he has someone though - a brother of sorts," Robin acknowledged. "It's good for both of them. So... _speaking_ of what's good for someone-"

"Are we _really_ doing this now?"

"Killian," Robin began, raising his eyebrows condescendingly. "Did you really think we _weren't_ going to talk about it?"

Killian had hoped for that, but realistically, he knew Robin wouldn't allow him to avoid the topic forever. He knew his mate meant well - he just didn't know what to say. He was still trying to figure out the least embarrassing way to explain what had happened with Milah. He wasn't proud of how blind he'd been. He should have seen it coming. He _should_ have known better.

"Listen, Jones," Robin tried, shrugging casually. "I'm just concerned. I know you've been through the ringer lately. I'm hoping being here will help you get right - maybe assist you in finding your sound mind again. I don't think you being alone and downright _ossified_ in London is the best way to get through this."

"I know," Killian sighed. "I just...I don't know, mate-"

"Perhaps a pint might be the best place to start," Robin decided. "I've got to go finish up a few things at work this morning - should be done 'round noon. Let's meet for lunch and chat then, eh?"

"Fair enough," Killian complied, glad to have a few more hours to debate his feelings. "Whereabouts?"

"Uh, there's a pub-" Robin explained, downing the rest of his coffee. "-down on the corner of Main. You can't miss it."

"Does this place have a name?"

"Yeah, but it's the only one in town," Robin replied, distracted by a ringing phone in his pocket. "Just be there around twelve, okay?"

They reached the school before Killian could offer his agreement and Roland dashed back toward them, jumping into Robin's arms for a hug. Killian chuckled at the way the little boy nearly knocked his dad off center, a reaction that Henry matched with a laugh of his own.

"Bye, Uncle Killian," Roland said, wrapping his arms around Killian's neck as he bent down to the kid's level. "Have a good day today, okay?"

"I shall do my best," Killian grinned, winking when he pulled back. "You too, alright?"

Roland smirked knowingly and Henry took his hand again, waving to the two men before leading the little boy inside the building. Killian made a mental note to set aside some time for Roland and possibly Henry while in Storybrooke on his one week hiatus. The doubled number of pretend nephews was enough to make his day just a bit brighter.

In a slow motion, Killian rose back to his feet. His posture straightened and he flinched a bit as something in his pocket dug into his thigh.

"What in the bloody hell-"

His eyes went wide as he reached inside the enclosed fabric. The luggage tag. The phone number. _Emma_. His heart nearly jumped into his throat. With fingers frozen on the tag, he tried to slip back into a state of nonchalance. He wasn't ready to say anything about this to Robin and honestly, he didn't know if he ever would be. Some secrets were just better left hidden - no pun intended.

"Alright, ye manky fool," Robin teased with an emphasized accent, slugging Killian's shoulder gently. "Get on home and take a shower - I'll see ya in a few hours. Stay out of trouble."

Killian glared with faux challenge before starting back up the sidewalk in the direction they'd previously come from. Yes, a shower was definitely in order - and _perhaps_ a phone call was too. As for how much trouble that would be...well, _that_ was all up in the air.

* * *

The little bell overhead dinged a well known sound. Emma had visited the library plenty of times with Henry and she had known Belle, the librarian, for what felt like ages. Yet as she walked through the entrance, her nerves were standing on edge. Perhaps it had something to do with the reason for this late morning venture.

Yes, late morning because... _well_ , because she had to pace herself. She still had a daily agenda to work through and a book written by Killian Jones would do nothing but distract her - just like _he_ had.

" _Oh_ , Emma - hello," Belle said happily, appearing at the circulation desk. "It's good to see you. When did you get back into town?"

"Just last night," Emma smiled, trying to remain nonchalant. "Ruby picked me up at Logan International yesterday afternoon."

"Did you have a fun trip? I've _always_ wanted to go to London."

"Yeah it was-" Emma replied, biting her tongue as that pair of blue eyes crossed her mind. "-wonderful. Pretty amazing actually."

"I'm glad you found time to go. I know that was one of the places on your list," Belle grinned, sorting some magazines into piles as she spoke. "So did Henry send you in to pick something up for him? I've been setting aside a few things for him - he mentioned that he's been searching for some books on Arthurian legends."

"Oh, _uh_ \- no," Emma stammered, reaching for the slip of paper in her purse that held the book information. "I'm actually looking for...this. I was hoping you might have it."

"Hmmm, ' _Lost_ ', huh? The author sounds familiar - this Killian Jones guy. I think I've seen it before. Let's see what we can find."

Emma took a deep breath as she followed Belle, wondering if she was acting as transparent as she felt. It was stupid that she even wrote anything down. It wasn't like she couldn't remember the title... _or_ the author. No, she _definitely_ hadn't spent an excessive amount of time wondering about the book's plot or just how quickly she could devour the words. Folding her arms and trying to assuage her tingling skin, Emma walked the floor just behind the helpful librarian with her curiosity reigned in the best that it could be.

"If it's the one I'm thinking of, I know it's a fairly new publication," Belle narrated, dragging her fingertips over the spines of a few novels as she searched. "I think it was quite popular for a while. How'd you hear about it?"

"Umm, just a recommendation from-" Emma answered, swallowing hard. "-a friend."

" _Ah_! Here it is," Belle announced suddenly, tugging a hardcover book from the shelf. "Oh - yes, this _is_ the one I was thinking of. It was on the bestselling list for quite some time. Must be a good read."

Emma allowed her gaze to lock onto the book being extended in her direction. She steadied the tremble of her hand before she took it, feeling the smooth cover with her fingertips. The picture on the front was sketched and Emma had to wonder whose hand had done that work. It was a ship - almost like a pirate ship - originally drawn dark with charcoal. The book's title as well as his name were printed in bold red letters, embossed in a way that felt bumpy as her fingers brushed the cover. It was so simple and honest, but with a mystery she couldn't quite grasp.

 _How fitting_ , she mused silently.

"I'll go ahead and put it under your name in the computer," Belle offered, breaking Emma out of her trance. "Keep it as long as you need to."

"Thanks, Belle," Emma grinned, trying to keep the blush from her cheeks. "I'll let Henry know you have his books."

They exchanged a few more pleasantries and a quick goodbye as Emma left the building. It was tempting to flip through the pages as she walked toward the bar, but she knew that wouldn't be fair. She wanted to gather her attention and free time before starting the book. She had this faint inkling that she might not be able to put it down.

She crossed the street quickly, landing on the curb outside the bar with a smile. The corner location was prime real estate and she'd been thrilled to acquire it for a decent price five years earlier. It wasn't huge - a modest storefront type of space with tall front windows wedged between red brick walls. The building itself had twisty, tangled vines crawling up the side of it - part of what led August to believe that the name of Emma's favorite childhood story was the perfect name for their pub. The sign wasn't large or lit but rather simple with the letters carved and faded into a dark piece of wood above the front entrance.

The Beanstalk - _this_ was home.

"Emma!"

The cheerful voice hit her ears the moment the door opened. She couldn't help the smile that stretched across her face as her eyes found August. He had been in the process of polishing a few beer glasses, but he was currently only a few paces away with open arms. His grin was goofy and crooked per usual - and damn, she'd missed him.

"August," she sighed, wrapping him in a loving hug. "It's so good to see you."

"You too, world traveler," he teased. "Glad you made it back. We've missed ya."

"Likewise," she laughed, glancing around. "How have things been? How's business?"

She peered at her familiar surroundings, remembering instantly how much she loved the inner workings of the bar. Emma had always found the original structure of the building to be beautiful. Lots of wood beams and bare brick exposed walls framed the room with dark stained floors underfoot. The bar top was smooth and handcrafted by August with help from grandpa Marco, but it still wore the little nicks and dents that came with being the space for drinking. The lighting that illuminated the place at night was dim and maybe even a bit intimate, but in the early daylight, the room was more welcoming and homey than anything else. They'd only opened about an hour ago - only a few well known faces occupied the seats at the counter.

"Business is business," August smirked with a shrug. "Same old bar, same old riff-raff."

He tilted his head toward the counter as he used the affectionate term to describe the two men currently bantering about god knows _what_ while consuming a few rather early drinks. She had to laugh - this scene was far too common. Part of her loved that.

"Well, _well_ ," she taunted, slipping behind the counter. "Are we hosting a twelve step program here now? I leave for a few days and the place goes to the Brits, huh?"

"Hey - _I_ resent that," one of them said. "As native to the states as they come."

She reached across the surface, hugging the man who had dubbed himself as her 'fellow American'. David had been a constant in her life for a few years now, one of the first real friends she'd gained when she moved to Storybrooke. He'd allowed Henry to volunteer at the animal shelter he managed during the summer and the two had built a bond, one that eventually transferred to Emma. David's wife, Mary Margaret, had actually been Henry's teacher the previous year as well. It was humorous really - the way the world had put her and the Nolan family together. She wouldn't trade it for anything.

"Well, look who is back from holiday," the other man chided, his accent full and proud. "Glad to see ya made it back to the mainland, Swan. We've missed harrassing you."

"Ha- _ha_ ," she replied in a sing-song voice. "I wish I could say I missed it too, Robin."

He winked with a laugh, the same one she'd heard since the first time he dropped in to the bar with David a while back. She'd always found him to be the best kind of entertaining, his lilted voice always animated and his grin constantly contagious. Him marrying Regina had been the icing on the cake, especially because he had an uncanny ability to bridge that gap between Emma and Henry's adoptive mother. That man was a godsend - but hell would freeze over before she'd tell him so. He didn't need that ego boost in the _least_.

"So, Swan," Robin started, clinking his half empty beer bottle with David's. "How was your jaunt across Europe? Lovely continent in my opinion-"

"Yeah, Locksley - we _know_ ," David cut in, rolling his eyes. "We're well aware of how you feel about England."

"Fortunately for me, I will now have a comrade present to share in my opinion!"

"What the _hell_ -" Emma questioned, pausing to down some water. "-are you talking about, Robin?"

"My friend's in town for a week or so," he explained, tossing his bottlecap at David. "European as they get."

"I see," Emma replied, brushing some condensation off her glass. "From England?"

"No - Ireland," Robin responded. "Lives in London part of the time though."

Her breath hung heavy in her lungs at the mention of a country she'd recently gained an interest in. She shook her head slightly, trying to rid herself of the man attached to that piece of geography.

"I'm starting to think he's imaginary," David whispered loudly, glancing sideways at Robin. "I've yet to meet him and I refuse to believe he exists until he's actually visible."

"He'll be here for lunch, _Dave_ ," Robin retorted, elbowing him in return. "So stay tuned."

Emma laughed, sighing heavily as she snatched up the empty bottles to dispose of. Both men knew that they were limited to two beers when it came to lunch hours - Mary Margaret's rule not hers. She leaned back against the counter, waiting for the distinct nod they'd give her when they were ready for her to uncap the new ones.

She wondered silently about this mystery friend. Henry had mentioned that Robin was going to have company visiting from back home - something her son had been oddly excited about. She'd admittedly been a bit distracted with planning for her trip to hear the details. Her mind twisted with the possibility of talking to this guy - maybe she could use the sound of what would probably be a heavily lilted voice to take her mind off things. Maybe this Irishman would be a good distraction from the one she hadn't been able to _stop_ thinking about.

Maybe he'd be charming and entertaining - but he wouldn't be Killian. _Talk about a sobering thought,_ she mused quietly. No, this was reality and Emma's reality didn't include the the events of the last twenty four hours. That was a dream - a memory really. So what did she wish it wasn't?

* * *

 _Shit_ , he was going to be late. Killian had no idea how this had happened. It's not like he had an extraordinarily busy schedule. He just had somehow ended up penciling in two hours of _thinking_ about a phone call he wanted to place instead of just doing it.

This was so _ridiculous_. Every ounce of serendipity Killian could fathom had bonded together to simply present him with the option of contacting her. He'd been so disheartened when she'd walked away, but he'd been so thrilled to find the luggage tag. What the hell was he waiting for?

He'd gone back and forth - dialing a few of the numbers and then deleting them before noticing the time on the clock. God, he didn't even know where he was going. Killian quickly jammed the luggage tag back in his pocket - he'd deal with it after lunch. Hopefully by then, he'd be rid of his cowardice.

He opted to walk - it wasn't that far from what Robin had told him and he wasn't sure what the parking regulations were in downtown Storybrooke. He smirked to himself as he walked. It was so different from the constant hustle and bustle of London - calm, easy, _happy_.

Oddly enough, he wasn't opposed to it.

His phone chimed as he moved down the street, a stark reminder that he hadn't checked his email in a few days. He scrolled up and down the screen in a distracted manner, turning his head to check before crossing the street to the pub on the corner.

He looked up at the vine covered bricks and then quickly at the tall windows. This had to be it.

Pushing the door open, Killian realized that Robin was right about this being the only place to grab a drink in town. The fact that it was a Saturday afternoon and the way the place was filling up with an afternoon crowd was going to make it more difficult to find his friend. He sighed, pulling his sunglasses off and hanging them on the collar of his shirt before he descended into the room.

It was rather casual actually - all bare brick and hardwood floors. The walls were lined with just about anything you could dream of drinking and several patrons were perched at the counter, no doubt discussing the tribulations of their week. That was something Killian could definitely contribute to - although it was likely he wouldn't.

"Killian! Up here, mate!"

His vision narrowed, a bit of relief crossing his features when he finally spotted Robin. He moved forward, trying to decide the best way to weave through the gathered groups of people. He'd nearly reached the bar top when his shoulder smacked into something - or someone. His sunglasses hit the ground with a clatter and Killian grunted softly, annoyed at his clumsiness.

"Oh, _damn_...I'm sorry, lass-"

"Oh no, it's my fault-"

A quick flash of blonde hair that was abruptly followed by a pair of deep set green eyes caused Killian to freeze. His mind tumbled over itself as his thoughts raced with the insane possibility.

There was no way this was happening - but Killian would know the sweet sound of that voice _anywhere_. His brain searched for it - the name he needed to recall, to say...to _believe_.

Ah, there it was - and bloody hell, here _she_ was. The letters arranged themselves quickly and it drifed from his mouth in a disbelieving yet elated tone.

" _Emma_."


	5. Chapter 5

**Ugh, sorry this took soooooooooo long to update! My muse had been very bratty this past week, but I think we're back on track now. Enjoy and there is more to come soon! All rights/characters belong to OUAT. I own nothing!**

* * *

No _way_. There was absolutely no way _this_ was happening.

Emma blinked hard, her eyes flying back open fast. This couldn't be real - but it was _him_. He was standing - well, crouching - _right_ in the middle of the bar. She hadn't allowed herself to believe they'd ever see one another again, but it was _definitely_ him.

"Killian?"

The name left her mouth in a near whisper, but his stare brightened with grateful recognition. Emma couldn't move, her feet glued to the floor and his sunglasses firmly in her hold. There was so much about the moment that wasn't possible, but the most unbelievable part was that his eyes were even more blue than she remembered. Emma's breath went shaky as she tried to steady her thoughts and locate her voice.

"I...think you dropped these."

The awkward comment escaped before she could think twice about it. Her hand dangled between the two of them, the sunglasses loosely in her grip. His lips twitched, the hint of that trademark smirk transforming his expression into one she hadn't seen during the time she'd previously spent with him. She couldn't decipher his gaze, but she knew the way his bit his lower lip meant only one thing - _trouble_.

"Thanks," he mused, arching an eyebrow. "I guess I should be more careful."

It didn't take her long to realize why the conversation sounded so familiar. _The passport_ , she silently recalled. Though the roles were reversed, the exchange was made up of the first words they'd ever said to one another. She wondered if he noticed it too.

"Aye, there he is-" Robin cut in, causing both of them to jump as he clapped Killian's shoulder. "-straight away from the Emerald Isle! Glad you found the place, mate."

"Uh, yeah," Killian replied, trying to hide his astonishment. "Although giving me the name of the place may have made things a bit more clear."

His eyes were still hooked on hers as he spoke and Emma was surprised how easy it was to read between his words. It was likely that Robin described the bar as a location rather than a business. It didn't bother Emma. She was used to it being 'the pub on the corner' - she honestly wasn't sure that many Storybrooke residents knew that the bar even had a name, but _Killian_ did. She wondered if their current situation would be different if he'd known where he was headed. Would he still be standing in front of her? Would he have even showed up? Part of her had to believe he would have had even _more_ reason to.

A bigger part of her wanted to believe that he felt it too - this raw, magnetic energy between them.

"So, since you were _so_ curious about my European comrade," Robin teased, arching an eyebrow at her. "Emma, _this_ is Killian."

Hearing his name out loud spiked her nerves and sent a chill up her spine. The introduction meant it was real. She wasn't imagining _or_ dreaming _or_ hallucinating. Killian Jones was standing right in the center of her normal, small town life - and he was definitely just as caught off guard as she was.

"Emma," he said softly, his accent curving around each sound of her name as he extended a hand. "It's a pleasure."

"Oh - uh, yeah," she replied, stumbling verbally as her fingers grazed his in a firm handshake. "It's...likewise."

His expression took on an amused note as he appeared to enjoy her less than suave reply. In the short amount of time she'd spent with him, Emma had noticed how much he thrived off having the advantage when it came to the pair of them conversing. That detail was easy to relate to. Control was key in her opinion - and he could flash that smirk or taunt her with his smooth voice as much as he wanted. This was her home - _her_ space. It was going to take more than a little flirting for her to address what his sudden reappearance meant.

"So, uh," Emma began, digging deep for some composure and confidence. "Can I get you a drink?"

He furrowed his eyebrows, confused at her words - or perhaps more at the ones she _wasn't_ saying. It was obvious that he wanted to talk. _Not now_ , her eyes said - an silent refusal he quickly picked up on. Pursing his lips into a knowing smile with a quick and _very_ unnecessary wink, he nodded. Robin turned to head back toward the bar and Killian planted his feet, tilting his head to signal that he'd follow her. Emma bit her lip, challenging his brilliant gaze to no avail before sliding back behind the counter.

Ah, so _this_ was how it was going to be.

"Here you go, gentlemen," Emma said, uncapping two beers for Robin and David before turning her eyes to Killian. "And for _you_?"

"Hmmm," he started, propping his elbows up on the bar. "Well, you're the expert here. What would you recommend?"

"If you're friends with this one-" Emma retorted, pointing to Robin. "-I trust that your knowledge of alcohol is extensive enough for you to know what you want."

His glare gained a bit of fire, a look that made Emma immediately think twice about her word choice. That was a far too loaded of a question to offer a man like this - one that would give him _way_ too much power over this game they'd somehow started to play.

"Nevermind," she decided, tapping the wood surface in front of her. "I've _got_ it."

His eyebrows went up and Emma couldn't help narrow her sight playfully before spinning around to get a view of the shelves. There were endless bottles - August tended to pride himself on the variety of alcohol they kept on hand. He was also a bit of a stickler for sensible organization and Emma knew all too well that any and all rum was kept on the top shelf. Better yet, the rum Killian had been drinking on the plane was the seventh bottle down on that shelf. She grinned fiercely to herself as she stretched to grab it.

Emma didn't have to look back at him to know that his eyes were adhered to her every move. She knew he was watching her hands as they placed a glass tumbler on the bar top. She swore she could hear the subtle escape of his breath as she reached high for the bottle, his gaze curious and concentrated. The cool air on the skin exposed across her lower back told her exactly why he was staring. It was a small victory, one that she hoped she could use to maintain her high ground.

"So, _Killian_ ," she said in a dramatically breathless voice, sliding the glass of rum to him. "Why don't you tell me what you're doing in Storybrooke?"

* * *

By the time he'd entered the bar, Killian had somewhat prepared his weary mind for the conversation he had been avoiding for weeks. He knew he'd eventually have to face the music and if he couldn't dance around the issue any longer, he figured under the influence was the best way to face Robin's lecture. Day drinking was a skill he was quickly mastering - pathetic as it was.

He'd still been fighting the remnants of a nasty hangover and though some early afternoon consumption probably wasn't the _best_ idea, he pulled his sunglasses on and headed out the door to the pub Robin had directed him to. It was his hope that the shades might block out the irritating daylight as well as his mind's persistent reeling.

He didn't know who he was trying to fool - he made it less than a block before questions and thoughts of Emma began to fill his head.

She'd looked almost disappointed when they'd split at the airport and he could empathize - he hadn't been ready to watch her go. Honestly, it wasn't just that he'd been caught off guard by Gold's interruption. No, there was more to it than that. He was annoyed with himself for not being as forward as he wanted to be.

God knows there was much more he could have said and a _hell_ of a lot more that he could have done.

He had to wonder if that remorse had been part of his desire to drink the moment he landed in Storybrooke. Of course, Robin had been more than willing to listen to him vent - especially since now he was in the vicinity to keep him in check. Despite the pounding regret in his brain post a very drunken evening, Killian wasn't extremely motivated to find an alternate way to deal with this trip.

But then he ran into her _again_ \- literally.

His mouth hung open in complete surprise as his eyes tried desperately to convince his brain that this wasn't a trick. He barely heard his sunglasses hit the ground as his apology hung in the air, cut short by the green glow of her gaze. After a few moments of staring far too hard, he realized it wasn't a dream - but that didn't mean she didn't look like a true _vision_.

He wanted to laugh at this constant twisting of fate and the way it kept pulling them together. He wanted to tell her how happy he was to see her and how thrilled he was that she appeared to be a crucial part of this little town he'd been avoiding. He wanted to talk to her - possibly without the sets of prying ears surrounding them. He wanted them to be _alone_.

As much as he was battling it, he wanted to corner her like she'd done to him on the plane. He wanted to cage her in his arms again as he resumed that heated trail of his lips on her neck. He wanted to show her that there was _definitely_ a spark there - one she couldn't deny and one he didn't want to ignore.

"So," she taunted, a clever grin curving up her smooth lips. "Why don't you tell me what you're doing in Storybrooke?"

The last thing he wanted was to answer her question honestly - especially since now, his opinion of the little town in Maine had changed _quite_ a bit. He scratched gently behind his ear, searching for words that were honest yet vague.

"I wager he's going to need a drink before he's going to share that story, Swan," Robin interrupted, tapping the sides of his beer bottle. "Although that broken heart of his has been floundering in alcohol for a few weeks now."

" _Rob_..."

He'd never wanted to smack his best friend upside the head more than he did in that moment. Killian knew the look on his face was weakly shielded so he hoped his tone - the one that was backhandedly asking Robin what the _hell_ was wrong with him - would get his point across.

"Oh, come _on_ , Jones," Robin laughed, gesturing toward Emma. "Lady Swan here _is_ a bartender. She's got plenty of experience listening to breakup tales of all sorts. Part of the job description I believe-"

Exasperated, Killian kicked at Robin's feet while subtly shaking his head. He was going to kill him. He tried to relax as he gripped his glass, pressing his fingers hard against the sides. He didn't even want to look at her for fear of what he might see, but he had to find _some_ way to clear this up.

Peering upward with hesitation, he tried to gauge her reaction to Robin's intrusive words. She looked confused - a mix of intrigue and disbelief. His heart was about to fall into his stomach when her eyes flickered towards his. The dark green filling her stare was staggering, but somehow, he still caught the tiniest hint of humor in her expression.

 _Wait_ \- she wasn't upset. She was... _amused_. He hadn't expected this. Maybe she was entertained enough to allow him to explain.

"Well, _actually_ -" Emma finally said, pausing to slide a coaster to him. "-I manage the bar more than I tend it. August, however, happens to be an _excellent_ listener."

Killian's lips parted in some form of protest, but anything he'd planned to say was immediately lost to the smirk on her lips and the inconspicuous way she batted her eyelashes before wandering over to help a few new patrons. This version of Emma was different, but in a way he definitely wanted to explore. She was _happy_ \- almost comfortable in a way. He had been dropped right into her world in a most unexpected manner and Killian had to wonder if she'd allow him to stay - at least for a little while.

"Alright, get to it, Jones," Robin reminded him, tapping the counter twice with his palm. "I've got to run back to work to grab a couple things at the warehouse and then to get Roland from school so you've got about...thirty minutes to spill your guts. Out with it."

Killian looked Emma's way once more, noting the way her posture seemed to tense when she peeked back at him. There was no telling what was going through her head and there was absolutely no way he could avoid telling Robin about his downward spiral. His breath was a series of sharp exhales and he peered toward the clock overhead.

"Hey Rob - I still need you and Dave to help me with those kegs real fast."

Killian's eyes jerked toward the opposite end of the bar to where the voice was coming from. He noticed the man doing the speaking almost immediately and he tried to gauge whether the helpful interruption was a planned one or not.

He wore a knowing smile, one that was surrounded by a neatly trimmed beard. His hair was a wild, dark mess of waves and he was dressed in a simple black button down and jeans - the picture of a basic barkeep. The guy wasn't familiar by any means, but Killian recalled Emma mentioning a brother of sorts - yeah, August was it? This _had_ to be him.

"We happen to be in the middle of a rather important conversation, Booth," Robin replied, holding up a finger to silence the request.

"It sounds more like an interrogation," August commented, folding his arms defiantly. "I trust you'll be able to resume it once you're done assisting me. Plus, you and Dave nearly drank the place dry during the hockey playoff game the other night. Least you can do."

"Ugh - fine," Robin groaned, pointing at Killian. " _This_ isn't over, Jones."

"I'd despair if it was," Killian sighed, smiling thankfully at August.

Robin headed for what Killian assumed was the bar's backroom with a laughing and shrugging David following close behind. He wasn't sure what had possessed August to save him from that unwanted chat, but he was beyond grateful that he had. They'd have that little intervention soon, but hopefully away from the eavesdropping of others - _especially_ Emma.

"So a broken heart, huh?"

Killian jumped slightly, taken aback by the curious tone of the woman he'd just been pondering. She moved to stand in front of him again, her head tilted in wonderment at the secret Robin had spilled. Well, there clearly wasn't going to be a way around this. He should just tell her.

"I know I haven't met him properly, but you'll have to remind me to thank your brother for the out just now," Killian laughed nervously, his eyes wide with hope. "I suppose we probably ought to talk?"

"You're probably right," she nodded, folding a napkin absentmindedly. "So are we going to?"

"Well, it's just that Robin doesn't...he's just - I mean, it's not..."

"You don't have to explain yourself to me, Killian."

"I'd like to though," he admitted, offering her a nervous half smile. "If you'd be willing to hear it?"

She hesitated, her lips parting but without words. He waited cautiously as he allowed his eyes to lock onto her studious ones. He'd seen this look before - the one that considered and analyzed him in a skeptical fashion.

"Why?"

"Well," Killian started, biting the inside of his cheek in thought. "I guess I'd like to think I owe you that much - and because I'll never forgive myself if I don't stop you from walking away again."

God, he hadn't meant to put so much honesty on the table so quickly. Surprise filled her features, her eyes going wide and desperately green. He hoped his statement wasn't too bold as his hand anxiously toyed with the hem of his jeans. He shifted on the stool just enough for the luggage tag to poke at his leg through the fabric. It didn't take long for a rather brave idea to tempt his brain.

"Just-" she mumbled after a moment, peering towards a few new customers. "-hold that thought, okay?"

He nodded, watching her saunter to the other end of the room as he reached for the luggage tag in his pocket. Trying not to be to obvious in his observation, his fingers ran along the sides of it as he took in her appearance.

She was dressed a little edgier than he'd witnessed on plane - although her choice in clothes had been his fault when he'd vandalized her outfit with his spilled coffee. Killian tried not to stare at her low rise skinny jeans as she leaned across the bar to pass out a few receipts. He mentally berated himself for watching the way her long pendant necklace dropped down into the deep neckline of her sweater. Her hair was pulled back, tied at the base of her neck loosely in a way that gave him a subtle view of the place where her shoulder met her collarbone. It was difficult to keep his mind from imagining how that expanse of skin might feel under his lips or even his teeth - especially because he'd had that experience once already.

Once, however, was sure as _hell_ not going to be enough.

Red filled his face when she turned back to him, catching him in the act of rather inappropriate admiration. Emma smirked in a way that he was learning was quite characteristic of her before she wandered back over.

"So," she breathed, bending to rest her elbows on the surface of the bar. "You were saying?"

"Have a drink with me."

"Umm," she began, her fingertips gripping the edge of the counter across from him. "Isn't that what we're doing?"

"Sort of," he laughed softly, shrugging a shoulder. "But half of my request includes _you_ drinking as well."

"I see," she shot back, narrowing her eyes at him. "What does the other part entail?"

"Something a little smoother than this-" he grinned, lifting his glass of mediocre rum. "-though I appreciate your keen memory, I'd assume you know this isn't exactly top shelf, even if that is where you've chosen to keep it. I'm talking about an _actual_ drink. Maybe one that might include that conversation we keep suggesting?"

Her eyes were playful, full of some type of excited curiosity that made him think he might just get his way. Killian's impatient gaze and his insistent desire hinged on the manner in which her teeth worried her lower lip in thought. God, she was _killing_ him-

"Bloody _hell_ , you'd never believe these two, Killian," Robin's arupt tone cut in as he reappeared on the nearby stool. "Unloading kegs during a man's lunch hour should get him on the bar's payroll - or at least a free pint or two."

"I'm pretty sure you've had your fair shares of drinks under the table, Robin," Emma teased, her stare moving casually from one Brit to the other. "But go ahead and consider your tab squared for now. So Killian, I suppose this means I'll be seeing you around?"

Killian's heart skipped a blurred beat at the way she seemed to be accepting that he wasn't going anywhere just yet. His smile stretched subtly upward, a gesture she matched almost instantly.

"If you'd like to."

The nod she gave him paired with those understanding and flirtatiously green eyes gave him the permission he felt he needed. He adjusted the tag in his hand, gripping it between two fingers as he reached for a napkin.

"Do you have a pen, Swan?"

She pulled one from her back pocket with pursed lips, eying him carefully before handing it over. Killian worked fast, moving the ink over the napkin in a graceful fashion.

"Alright, so I have yours-" he explained, raising the luggage tag so she could see. "-and now, you have mine."

He tried not to take too much enjoyment in her wide eyed expression, one that was full of the utmost shock and something that looked a bit like anticipation. Was it possible that perhaps she _wanted_ to see him again? He tried not to get ahead of himself as Robin nodded toward the door.

"Well, Jones, congratulations," his friend sighed. "You managed to avoid my questions _again_. So much for a productive lunch hour, eh?"

"I'd beg to differ, Rob," he mused, a crooked smile taking over his lips as he winked at Emma before turning to the door. "Productive is _exactly_ how I'd describe it."

* * *

It had been a few hours since she'd watched him follow Robin out the front entrance of the bar. Emma felt like she'd been polishing the same shot glass since he'd turned to look back at her once more with that clever smirk and that obsene wink, the combination that was slowly reducing her to a puddle of intrigue and want. How he had been able to reappear and accomplish such a feat in record time was beyond her, but she couldn't seem to shake that feeling he'd left simmering inside her.

Killian Jones landing in her bar was the last thing she'd expected - but Killian Jones showing up with her lost luggage tag _and_ a date request was so far from believable that it didn't even make it into the realm of things that _could_ be expected. That's what he'd wanted though - a date. Well, he'd asked her to have a drink so they could chat. Emma didn't have to be the adept reader of people she truly was to know he wanted the conversation more than a glass of higher quality rum.

Maybe there was more to this man than a tempting accent and interesting drinking habits. Oh yeah - there _was_ a broken heart. God, she had never imagined _that_ little detail to be his reason for visiting the States and now he _actually_ wanted to talk about it. Emma wasn't sure how she was going to handle addressing his when she'd never properly made amends with her own.

As much as she'd wanted to begrudge the way he'd held back telling her about his recent breakup or how he had never mentioned his travel plans, she was having a hard time doing so. The truth was she'd been _excited_ to see him - almost like she had missed the banter they'd shared throughout the seven hours up in the air. Well, the banter among _other_ things.

It had been a struggle to avoid staring at his mouth and that overly expressive tongue he continually ran over his lips. She hadn't been able to forget the way his kiss had felt - and she honestly didn't know if she wanted to. She'd never experienced a moment so heated and full of the most passionate intention. It made her wonder what would have happened if she _hadn't_ stopped him. It made her imagine what it might be like if she let it happen again.

"Hey," August's voice inquired as he leaned against one of the freezers. "What's on your mind?"

"Who says there's something on my mind?"

"The twenty five years or so that I've spent learning how you operate," August laughed, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "I'd like to think I know you well enough to know that the silence paired with _that_ look means you're thinking pretty hard about something."

Emma chuckled when he mimicked her expression, trying to sway the blush from her cheeks. August had always been skilled at reading her - he was one of the only people with that ability. She supposed it was the fact that he'd known her for so long, but there was some other piece to it. They'd both spent so much time believing they had been abandoned, drifting through the foster system with only each other to cling to. August was more of a brother than anyone a blood relation could have connected her to.

"Nothing in particular," Emma lied. "Just mentally sorting through my to-do list."

Emma internally slapped herself. Killian Jones was definitely _not_ part of that list. She shouldn't want to do anything to...or _with_ that man.

"Don't worry so much about it, Em," August assured her. "Everything was fine while you were gone."

"I know," Emma nodded, smiling with gratitude. "I suppose I'm lucky to have you, right?"

"Don't you forget _it_ ," August grinned, tossing a chip of ice at her. "So Ruby said you met a guy."

 _Of course she did_ , Emma thought as she rolled her eyes. She'd been rather vague in the way she detailed meeting and talking to Killian. She'd chosen to leave out a few of the verbs they'd shared - flirting and kissing being the main two. Any other actions she'd engaged in with him weren't ones she was ready to discuss with _anyone_ \- especially _not_ August. He meant well, but her foster brother was a huge advocate for Emma opening her heart to the world of dating. He struggled to keep his enthusiasm in check at times.

"Uh, yeah - I did," she admitted, clearing her throat casually. "But it's not like that."

August eyed her suspiciously - she didn't know why she'd felt it necessary to clarify what had or hadn't happened. For all August knew, Emma had merely met a kind fellow passenger who'd occupied her flight time with pleasant conversation. Of course, Killian _had_ done that - he'd just done a little _more_ than that as well.

"I see," August hummed, trying to coax more from her. "So what _was_ it like?"

"He was just...a nice guy," Emma tried, knowing she wasn't convincing in the least. "He said he was from Ireland and he's a writer."

"Interesting," he commented patiently. "Was he flying here for business?"

"No - I don't think so," Emma told him, biting her tongue in the process. "He didn't say."

It wasn't a lie - he never did say what he'd be up to on his trip. It was only hours ago that she'd learned the truth.

"Are you going to talk to him again?"

"Umm - _well_ ," Emma stalled, tapping the counter quietly. "Maybe. I guess you never know."

She _did_ know - it just wasn't time to tell August about that yet. Emma had stashed the napkin in her back pocket the moment Killian had dropped it on the bar, not wanting to answer the questions the phone number left behind might lead to. He looked like he might reply and Emma found herself scrambling for the authentic response that she'd likely need when a flash of lightning lit up the air outside.

" _Whoa_ \- that storm must be rolling in earlier than predicted," he noted, cringing when the thunder followed the strike only seconds later. "Is Henry still spending the weekend with you? Do you need to go get him?"

"No, he's coming over in a few hours," Emma replied, gazing out at the gray sky. "He was going to ride his bike, but hopefully not in this weather."

"Well, you better get out of here before it starts to come down out there," he decided, nodding toward the doors. "Tell Henry I say hello."

"Are you _sure_? I can stay-"

"No, _no_ \- go spend time with your boy," he demanded with that brotherly grin. "I'll close up. Just remember that poker night is tomorrow at eight."

"Of _course_ ," Emma nodded with a soft laugh. "I'm planning on coming in early and staying late so you'll be free to go. I'm sure Robin will be hounding you about it during lunch tomorrow."

"Yeah, quite likely," August agreed, elbowing her gently. "Now get out of here before the weather turns, Em."

"Alright," she conceded, offering him a hug before grabbing her keys. "I'll see you in the morning - oh, and if you talk to Marco, tell him I'll call him tomorrow. I got the wine he sent."

"Ah, yes - grazie nonno Marco, _eh_?"

"Si, grazie _mille_ ," Emma chuckled, brushing off her limited knowledge of the Italian language. "Ciao, August - a presto!"

"Ah - _very_ nice, Em," he laughed. "See ya tomorrow."

Emma raced the impending rain home, determined to make it inside before it really started to come down outside. Her footprints met the smooth cobblestones of the front walkway just as rain began to pitter patter against the ground. She clicked the front door closed behind her with a hard exhale as the low roll of thunder hit her ears.

Turning the corner into the small living room, Emma peeked out the window at the storm starting to ensue. The sky was dim and the abundant clouds hung low and dark overhead. She hoped Regina was planning on dropping Henry off. She was really looking forward to seeing him and a son with hypothermia would put _quite_ a damper on that.

Trying assuage her motherly worry, Emma headed into the kitchen in pursuit of the souvenir she'd bought for her son. She reached for the bag she'd left on the chair the night before and tugged out the purchase she'd decided on back in one of the London bookstores she had wandered into. It hadn't been difficult to decide what to get him - she and Henry had always bonded over books.

She grinned at the selection in her hands. It was dark blue and leather bound, embossed with silver letters that outlined the contents - _The Complete Fairytales of The Brothers Grimm_. Henry had quite an affinity for the classics, something the pair of them shared. She slid a bookmark - one with England's flag and 'London' written in fancy calligraphy that she'd bought for the sake of tourism - between the pages just as she heard car tires on the wet driveway.

Glancing out the kitchen window, she quickly caught sight of a black vehicle she didn't recognize. Robin didn't mention that they'd bought a new car. Setting the book on the table, Emma made her way to the front door to greet Henry. It was a bit of a shock when she heard his squeaky footsteps on the hardwood and his excited voice before she turned the corner.

"Yeah, just come on in - I'll run up and grab it," he said quickly, breezing toward the stairs. "Be right back!"

"Uh, Henry?"

"Oh, hey mom - just a second," he grinned, turning back to offer her that loving smile she'd come to adore. "I'm just grabbing a book for-"

"Emma?"

She felt her gaze widen fast and the color rush from her face as the sound of her name hit her like a runaway train. She began to turn slowly, not sure if she should believe it or not - but she would know that smooth, sultry accent just about _anywhere_.

" _Killian_?"

That honest, heart stopping grin gave her confirmation - of _course_ it was him. Killian Jones was standing in her front foyer, his hair damp and his eyes as blue as she wished the sky was. Rain began to thump hard against the pavement just outside the door and for a moment, she was beyond thankful for the noise that might possibly drown out her pounding pulse.

"I don't...uh," Emma stuttered, looking from Henry back to their unanticipated guest. "What are you doing here?"

He moved to reply, the early hunt of a smirk filling the smooth curves of his mouth. It dawned on her before she even heard the words. He was _Robin's_ friend - and yes, Robin was _her_ son's stepdad. Emma had endured her fair share of unusual run-ins when it came to their complicated family tree, but _this_...well, _this_ was getting to be _awfully_ out of the ordinary.

"Uh, just giving your boy a ride and-"

In all too quick of an instant, the power flickered and the rain moved into a heavy downpour. A faint darkness filled the house and the air between them in a way that suggested a blackout. Oh, _great_ \- or _bloody hell_ to quote Robin and the fellow British man standing before her.

"-experiencing the effects of a Storybrooke thunderstorm," he concluded, a shrug finding his shoulder. "I trust you've got backup?"

"Well, _no_ ," Emma sighed, staring up at the sudden lack of electricity. "Not exactly..."

"I see," he smirked, that half smile turning up cleverly. "Or rather I _can't_ see - loss of power and all..."

"Yeah I, umm, I got that," Emma retorted, trying to figure out how to navigate the conversation. "But I'm sure Henry and I can handle it-"

"Ugh, I hate when this happens," Henry complained, flipping the light switch at the top of the stairs. "Killian, do you think you could help me find the flashlights and some candles up in the attic before you go? My mom doesn't like going up there in the dark."

"I'd be happy to, lad," the Irishman smiled, unzipping the jacket he'd pulled on since she'd seen him last. "I would hate for her to have to brave the dark if she prefers not to."

"Yeah - right," Emma mumbled, rolling her eyes at the double meaning of his remark. "I guess you should go ahead and come in."

"I'm _technically_ already in, Swan," he taunted, raising his eyebrows in that flirtatious fashion. "But I must say it's a _pleasure_ to see you again as well."

Emma tried not to gasp or groan as he moved past her, the brush of his arm against hers and his delectable scent making her knees weak. She shut the door carefully and spun to face him. He winked subtly before descending the stairs and Emma took a deep breath.

Suddenly, the darkness seemed much less dangerous and threatening. No, the lack of electricity would definitely not hold a candle to the man who'd soon be lighting candles in her living room. It would only be a matter of minutes before he'd be assisting in illuminating the household - and probably a whole _hell_ of a lot more than _just_ that.


	6. Chapter 6

**I have no excuses for the long wait on this update other than back to school got the best of me :[ but I decided to split what was initially one chapter and make it into two so hopefully the next one will be up very soon! Thank you for your patience, friends - hopefully you're still reading! All characters/rights belong to OUAT.**

* * *

Killian sat in front of his laptop, drumming his fingers as he glared at the screen with a dwindling sense of hope. The cursor blinked on the blank document in a way that seemed to taunt him. He stretched his fingers anxiously in an attempt to get them to type something - _anything_ really. The meeting with his publishing company had been scheduled sooner than he'd planned per Gold's _very_ inconvenient demands and he couldn't show up without proof that a new book was in the works - even if it still wasn't.

Of course, finding space in his mind for the will to write was becoming increasingly difficult with Emma Swan plaguing his every thought. That woman was some kind of drug - one that was beyond addictive and impossible to quit.

It was almost unsettling how much he didn't _want_ to stop whatever was going on between them. He hadn't realized just how much he wanted to be near her until he found himself in those particular circumstances again. The look on her face when their eyes met was one he'd been playing over and over in his memory. She was shocked clearly, but it was like she was _glad_ to see him. She'd turned up the flirting quickly in an effort to sway any speculation, almost in a way he couldn't rival.

Well, _almost_. Killian was rather adept at smooth talk and though she seemed quite full of wit, he was motivated to match each one of her little quips. He was thrilled when he was able to keep up, but he hated the idea of her pushing him and the feelings dancing between them aside.

Perhaps that's what led him to using the luggage tag to his advantage. Offering a way to contact him was bold, but admitting he had the means to do the same with her was _completely_ brazen. Something about the smirks and entertained eyes he'd witnessed multiple times now made him think she liked that quality in him.

It was more likely that this competitive, smart, perceptive woman loved a challenge - and _that_ was something he and his slightly broken spirit could provide.

Sighing dramatically, Killian began viciously tapping the backspace key to rid the screen of the few words his fingertips had just produced. This was getting ridiculous. He _needed_ to find a way to focus. He had to get her out of his head - temporarily at least...even when all he _really_ wanted was to go back to the bar, lock a fierce gaze onto hers, and pull her close enough to kiss her one hundred percent _senseless_. He wanted to even the score - but more than that, he wanted _her_.

God, how he _wanted_ Emma Swan.

"Hey Killian," Henry's voice greeted from the guest room's doorway. "Oh...sorry. Were you trying to work?"

"Oh, umm, no I'm just...well, yeah," he stammered, closing the lid to his computer with a sheepish smirk. "I suppose 'trying' is the operative word though."

"I think they call that writer's block," the boy grinned. "I bet it gets frustrating."

"Yeah, it certainly can be," Killian exhaled, running an exasperated hand through his hair. "It's all part of the game I suppose though - kind of a temperamental career."

"If it makes you feel any better, Hemingway once rewrote the end of one of his stories thirty nine times before it was published."

"Oh - yeah...I, uh, think I've heard that somewhere before," Killian nodded, his eyes bright with recognition. "Something about not being able to get the words just right."

"But then again, Hemingway _did_ have a drinking problem," Henry laughed with a shrug. "So he might not be the best person to idolize."

Killian chuckled, twirling a pen in his hand while musing at Henry's knowledge of one of literature's greatest contributors. He could only hope that Henry didn't think the same about him as an author after his raucous indulgence the night before.

Truthfully, Henry seemed to be the only person he'd met in weeks that didn't look at him with a pitiful or sympathetic stare. Well, unless you included Emma - but he was trying _not_ to do that at the moment. Henry treated him like welcome company - and not the kind of heartbroken visitor who takes up residence in the guest room against their will. He seemed like the kind of kid who'd take you at face value without necessarily judging what he saw. Killian had found through a few brief and casual interactions that Henry had a genuine interest in literature. He couldn't help but hope that his chosen profession - though his ability was currently on a _defiant_ hiatus - would give him an edge as he tried to get to know the kid better.

All in all, Henry acted normal around him - and after the drawn out emotional mess of the past few weeks, Killian was in _no_ place to refute the idea of normal.

The dull roll of thunder moving in broke Killian out of his self deprecating moment and he glanced out the window at the storm clouds looming above. _So much for escaping London,_ he thought. It appeared as if the familiar weather had followed him.

"Well, good luck with the writing," Henry offered, pulling his backpack over his shoulder. "I'm going to wait downstairs for Robin - he said he'd take me to my mom's after work."

"Oh," Killian said, peeking at the digital clock across the room. "Is he...well, that's not for an hour or so though, right? He seemed like he had a few things left to wrap up last I spoke to him."

"Yeah - maybe longer. He had to finish installing some new gates down by the docks and then pick up Roland. I usually ride my bike, but I don't think my mom would be too happy if I showed up drenched."

Killian knew that his friend's line of work came with a rather scrambled schedule. Robin ran a locksmith company - the only one in town actually - and it seemed as if Storybrooke residents were particularly talented at keeping him in business. He got called out at odd times once in a while, a fact that currently left his stepson in a pinch.

Killian tapped the desk next to his laptop carefully, a faint flicker of an opportunity to help hanging in the air. He knew it couldn't hurt to offer - though it might sting a bit to be turned down. He couldn't explain why exactly, but he wanted Henry to like him.

"Well, if you _want_ , I...could give you a lift?"

It was those words that led to the pair of them buckling their seatbelts inside of Killian's rather luxurious rental car. For what he - _well_ , the publishing company - had paid for it, he really should have spent more time driving it. Truthfully, Storybrooke wasn't a big place and so much of it was within reasonable walking distance. Plus, he figured if he was endeavoring to, he'd have a better chance of running into Emma on foot.

"This is _pretty_ sweet," Henry noted, running a hand along the interior as he looked around. "Is it yours?"

"Sadly no," Killian smirked, turning the key as a few raindrops hit the windshield. "Just lent to me for my visit."

"Sorry you have to drive it in the rain," Henry shrugged. "Maybe you'll get back before it gets too bad. My mom doesn't live too far - just a few blocks past the big clock tower downtown."

"I don't mind, lad," Killian assured him, pulling the car out of the driveway and heading toward main. "That's quite a black sky though. Looks like we might be getting quite the savage storm."

"We get some pretty crazy weather around here. Last winter, we had a couple of ice storms. It made it pretty difficult to drive anywhere - people were stuck in Storybrooke for a while. It rains a lot in England too, right?"

"Aye, I've seen my share of cursed skies," he replied, pausing at the only stoplight he'd yet to see in town. "It can put quite a damper on being outdoors, yeah?"

"Sort of. I don't mind a snow day once in a while though. It gives me a lot of time to read."

"I see. Do you, uh, read much?"

"I like to," Henry confirmed, pointing so Killian knew to turn left. "Do you?"

Killian pursed his lips curiously, maneuvering the steering wheel cautiously as the rain began to fall harder. It wasn't a question he answered frequently - people tended to be more interested in what he was _writing_ rather than what he was reading. It didn't mean he didn't wish he had more hours set aside for that particular pastime. Maybe he'd make it part of this new life he was trying to figure out - the one he _finally_ felt like rebuilding.

"Not as much as I'd like to I'm afraid," he told the boy, offering the admission with a half smile. "What do you like to read?"

"History and fantasy stuff mostly," Henry responded. "I just finished a really cool book about pirate legends."

Killian felt his heartbeat quicken as his posture perked up a bit. He couldn't help the smile that began to work its way across his lips at the knowledge of Henry sharing one of his own interests. Growing up near the sea had provided Killian with a love of sailing from a young age, but having a big brother who loved to tell stories had encouraged his fascination with pirates. Perhaps that's why he continued to find the appeal in such folklore - it reminded him of growing up. It reminded him of _Liam_.

"It's pretty rare to find a good resource on swashbucklers," Killian commented, flipping the windshield wipers. "There's a bit of pirate history in the novel I wrote and researching such a thing was rather deadly - _err_ , difficult."

"Yeah it's an awesome book," Henry laughed, clearly amused with Killian's vernacular. "You can borrow it if you want?"

"I'd love to. I mean as long as you don't mind?"

"Not at all - that's the house," the boy told him, extending a finger in the direction of a small cottage on the right side of the street. "Do you want to come get it real fast? It's just upstairs."

"Umm, yeah I suppose," Killian said, peeking out at the rain. "But we better run, eh?"

Henry nodded, a huge grin on his face as they exited the car. A deafening clap of thunder followed them as they splashed along the pathway that began at the curb. Bloody hell, it was really starting to pour now.

The beat up Converse sneakers he'd pulled on that morning pounded the wet cobblestones underfoot as he followed Henry past the white picket fence to the front steps. The house's exterior itself hadn't earned a fair look from him given the weather conditions, but he could tell it had been refurbished into a cozy little place. The shutters were dark, probably recently painted as they framed the several windows that sat on opposite sides of the door.

Grateful to finally be under the protection of the roof's overhang, Killian pulled his hand through his dark hair as a few drops of water rolled down his face. There was something to be said about a decent front porch and this one was large yet somewhat enclosed with a set of wooden rocking chairs he speculated were used often. At least he _hoped_ they were - the little cottage was the ideal picture of what home should be and a kid like Henry deserved that. Now, it appeared he had it twice - and something about that knowledge made Killian inexplicably happy and perhaps even a bit envious.

"Looks like my mom made it home," Henry observed, brushing rain from his jacket as a light flickered on inside. "Kind of a relief I guess - her car isn't always the most dependable so she usually prefers to walk."

Killian smirked when Henry tilted his head toward the yellow Volkswagen in the driveway, the vehicle choice making him curious. He didn't know much about Henry's birth mom - only that she'd moved to Storybrooke about five years ago to be closer to him, a decision that fueled a rather uneasy relationship with Regina. Killian could empathize - he'd spent his fair amount of time trying to find agreeable ground with that woman as well.

As much as he wanted a chance to further discuss literature and legends with the boy, he was hoping he might remain unattended to while he waited. He'd successfully avoided small talk so far on his trip and his writing frustrations had truly amplified his need to continue to do so. Losing himself in a new book and a meandering thought of the beautiful and guarded local bar owner seemed like a better plan for the evening.

"It's up in my room. Just give me a second-"

Moving inside and out of the rain, they were met with a much needed warmth and the faintest smell of cinnamon. Killian was in the process of shutting the door behind him, the dull click and Henry's footsteps starting up the stairs prompting him to turn around.

"Uh, Henry?"

"Oh, hey mom - just a second. I'm just grabbing a book for-"

The squeaky soles of his shoes spun on the wood floor at the sound of her voice. He _knew_ it was her. He'd know that tone _anywhere_ , even if it was just that single word - or name. Apparently, the name that belonged to _her_ son.

" _Emma?_ "

She moved slowly, facing him with a combination of shock and pleasant surprise etched in her expression. He was still working through the fact that she was Henry's mom when she finally pieced her question together - one that was humorous and all too expected.

"I don't, _uh_ ," she tried, her cheeks rosy and her eyes greener than he remembered. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh - uh, just giving your boy a ride and-"

Before he could sufficiently explain, the light above his head went off and a lack of electricity filled the house. The rainstorm picked up and large droplets pounded against the roof as he attempted to tear his eyes away from hers. It was almost too difficult - especially because that was the _last_ thing he wanted to do.

The first thing he wanted to do was physically lessen the dark space between them - _or_ eliminate it entirely. The second thing he wanted to do was the same thing he'd been dreaming of since he found her in the bar. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to kiss her _hard_.

Before he could descend forward at all, his mind interjected with a rationale that was far too reasonable. Emma had a son - a very intelligent and interesting son who just so happened to be right upstairs procuring a some reading material for him. He flexed his toes in his damp sneakers, biting his lip with unfortunate resolve. He _couldn't_ kiss her - at least not right now. But as the storm gained momentum outside, he wondered if the weather might allow him to stick around long enough to change that.

He'd have to settle for the third thing he wanted to do - offering his assistance with the blackout in hopes she might let him stay. He had to thank the few lucky stars he still seemed to have when Henry asked so he didn't have to.

He'd agreed to brave the attic with a bit of a teasing reply, one that was paired with a trademark smirk before he headed up the stairs behind Henry. Emma's steps were quiet but she was definitely _right_ behind him. For a woman who didn't prefer this part of her home, she'd watched him ascend to the second level with the utmost intrigue and she'd followed quite eagerly as well. It was something - even if he wasn't sure what that 'something' meant.

Perhaps it was just Emma being maternal. Maybe she still had her apprehensions about him. After all, they didn't know one another very well and she was likely quite curious about why he'd struck a bond with her boy. Killian mused inwardly at this newly discovered connection - maybe if Henry wanted him around, she might too.

He tried to hide his disappointment when she strolled past them to a cupboard the held a plethora of blankets. The way her hips danced from side to side and the taunting stare she threw his way told him all he needed to know - yeah, the game was back _on_.

"Here you go," Henry said, tossing Killian a flashlight as he picked up a box of assorted candles. "The matches are downstairs. Just let me grab the other flashlight we keep up here."

Emma sauntered back by, brushing close against his back with a sharp and startled exhale. His eyes followed her to the staircase, watching as she smirked his way before heading back to the main floor. He probably would have stared for as long as possible if the flashlight Henry had located didn't land on his foot just seconds later, abruptly bringing his attention back to the task at hand as he winced.

"Whoa! Oops. _Sorry_ , Killian..."

"Oh, no - it's okay. Just be _careful_ , lad. Hey, let me take this-" Killian offered, taking the weighted box with a caring smile. "-and you can grab the matches when we get downstairs. I trust your mother won't mind you helping me set the candles ablaze?"

"Are you asking me if I'm allowed to play with matches or something?"

Henry laughed at his question and perhaps a bit at him. Killian shrugged sheepishly, an embarrassed smile landing on his lips as he scratched behind his ear. He didn't know Emma's restrictions when it came to parenting, but given the lad's respectful yet independent demeanor, it was pretty obvious that she knew how to set boundaries. Although it didn't appear as if Henry needed many of those. He didn't seem the type to step out of line much - well, unless you count inviting Robin's foreign and rather unknown friend inside during a town wide power outage. Killian just hoped that wasn't something Emma would choose to frown upon.

"Foolish inquiry on my party I suppose," he decided, offering the boy a grin as he shook his head like an idiot. "Your mother is lucky to have you around. Is it just the two of you here?"

Killian almost choked as the impulsive question fell out of his mouth. Why the _hell_ would he even ask such a thing? It wasn't any of his business - but he _wanted_ it to be. Maybe a little investigating wouldn't hurt.

Killian followed Henry back down the steps, trying to take in the little details of the house as he moved. His surroundings were simple and quite uncluttered, a fact that a minimalist like himself could appreciate. The walls were a calm gray tone and much of the flooring throughout the house was laid in dark cherry colored planks. He noticed a bookcase against the wall to his right side and his hope of getting to find what novels lined the shelves was something he quickly stowed away in his mind, possibly for a _different_ rainy day. His fingers brushed the metallic, intricately woven railing as he descended the stairs behind Henry.

His attention was drawn to an end table near the front door, one he hadn't seen earlier. That wasn't really a surprise - Emma had been the only thing he'd focused on when he initially ventured in. There were several pictures on the surface and Killian tried not to be too nosy as he glanced toward them, his flashlight working carefully to give him just enough illumination.

One frame held what he assumed was Henry's school picture, the lad exhibiting that cool yet casual grin teenage boys seem to take on once they hit high school. It made him laugh to see the kid developing a rather adept smirking ability, one that nearly rivaled his own. The other frame kept a picture of August - who Killian was almost surprised to recognize - with his arm slung over the shoulder of an almost elderly man. _Maybe Emma's grandpa,_ he thought as he narrowed his eyes at the glass. It was slightly bothersome to be so clueless, but the sparse photography made it clear that family wasn't something Emma had a lot of.

He continued his exploration, allowing the moments preserved in the pictures to pull him right into her world. His eyes drifted carefully to the final photograph, one that was encompassed by a vintage silver frame. Killian's eyes were full of intrigue as observed the details of this captured memory. It was _Emma_ \- younger though with her hair pulled back loosely and black rimmed glasses on the bridge of her nose. Her knees were bent and she was leaning forward just slightly, a semblance of the sweetest smile on her lips.

It was easy for Killian to see what was causing her genuine happiness as his eyes found the little, dark haired baby boy that was propped up on her lap. His hand was outstretched and his tiny fingers wrapped themselves around one of hers. _Henry,_ he realized with a knowing grin.

He was confused at first - Robin once explained that Regina had adopted Henry when he was only a few months old. But as he took in each aspect of the picture from the little sailboats on the baby boy's blanket to the smooth pink of her lips, Killian realized that this photography was probably the only thing she had left of him until she came to Storybrooke.

It was a moment filled with light, some of which was shed on the way he now saw her. In that single picture, she looked vulnerable in a way that even Killian knew was rare. She had hope and possibility in every ounce of her green gaze. God, she was _beautiful_ \- and now even more than he initially observed.

"Killian? You okay?"

Henry's inquiring voice ripped him from his distracted daydream and his cheeks flushed as he offered a nod. The boy eyed him suspiciously before shaking his head with a wild grin, a gesture that almost seemed to have some speculation behind it. He had to wonder if the lad had seen him staring at the woman in the picture - or if he knew why such a thing would be _so_ tempting.

"Oh, wait," Henry said suddenly, peeking inside the container. "I gotta grab the matches from the kitchen. Be right back."

Killian's mouth hung open in protest as Henry pushed the box back into his grasp. With only the single flashlight in his grip, he wasn't really sure where a solo path might lead. Maybe he could explore the living room. Perhaps he'd be able to find out where Emma had snuck off to. He forced his feet to resume movement, rounding the corner and standing in the oversized entryway.

It wasn't totally dark yet, the faint dimness of dusk hanging in the house enough for Killian to make out the basic layout of the room. The area was rustic and cozy, a hint of that coastal comfort hidden in the oversized sofa and the barnwood beams of the ceiling. Sheer curtains covered the window, shielding the raindrops that were sliding mercilessly down the glass. An old wood burning stove made its home in the corner of the room and Killian wondered if it was something they used often. He tried to imagine the crackle of embers and the warmth on his skin.

"Looks like the attic isn't haunted after all," Emma's taunting voice commented, his eyes falling on the way she sat all bundled up on a nearby recliner. "Well, not by anything _too_ dangerous anyway."

" _Quite_ harmless, Swan," he quipped in return, trying to feign a lack of startled surprise. "Nothing that could or would bother hurting you... _fortunately_."

Her stare shifted to blatant yet pleasant surprise as she seemed to absorb the concealed guarantee. Killian pursed his lips, allowing the corner of his mouth to turn up into a crooked half smile. He couldn't figure out why she ignited this boldness in him, but truth be told, he _liked_ it. He had missed the confidence he'd possessed once. It was only Emma who'd brought that back to him.

" _Very_ reassuring," she retorted, shivering and pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. "But thank you I guess. I mean, for helping Henry."

"Nothing of it, love," Killian smiled, his eyes blue with sincerity as he place the box on the coffee table. "A little cold there, Swan?"

"Well, darkness and a downpour seems like a combination that could do that to you."

"Ah, yeah it would appear so," he laughed softly, enjoying the amused expression she'd decided on. "But I'm happy to keep you both company until the storm lets up. If you'd like me to, of course."

The pace of the rainfall was steady as a far off flash of lightning illuminated the nervousness of her features. He stared across the room at her as he wondered what she would say. Killian wanted her to let him stay - not just because of the storm or the loss of power. She'd allowed him the honor of entering her home and her life and now, all he wanted was for her to actually let him _in_.

"Okay-" she said softly, swallowing back the insecurity she seemed to feel. "-yeah, you shouldn't be out driving in this anyway."

"I appreciate the concern, Swan."

She narrowed her eyes playfully, a taunt that was slowly becoming typical. Killian had to smirk at her deflection and the way she was taking him up on his offer, purely due to a safety precaution. He didn't have a totally clear picture of just why she was so determined to keep him at a reasonable distance, but even Killian knew she could have done better in the excuse department.

"Alright - found them," Henry announcing, reappearing and tossing Killian a pack of matches. "Wow, it's getting dark fast. I guess we better hurry."

"That we should, lad," Killian agreed with eyes still on Emma, striking a stick and watching it produce a tiny flame. "If I'm going to hang around for a bit, I wouldn't mind if we brightened the place up a bit."

He definitely wouldn't - and as their eyes locked over the glow of the wick he was setting fire to, he felt like Emma might be just as unopposed to the light they both obviously needed.

She didn't know why she was _even_ allowing it to surprise her anymore. The fact that they continued to run into one another was odd, but it had now happen so many times that the novelty really should have started to wear off by now. But it hadn't - and something about him being there made the sudden blackout a little less annoying.

There was no way she could let him know that though - not with Henry there. As far as her son knew, Killian was a stranger to her.

"So how do you guys know each other?"

The question was wrapped up in Henry's voice and Emma's nerves spiked as she tried to figure out just how he'd put it together. She peered toward Killian, his eyes wide as he seemed to search for words but found nothing. God _dammit_.

"How, _uh_ -" Emma attempted, clearing her throat nervously. "-what makes you think we do?"

"Well, he called you 'Swan'," Henry explained, arranging the scattered candles strategically. "It just seems like he'd only know your name if you'd met before."

 _Ah_ , so he'd heard their conversation. Well, at least _part_ of it. Emma was tempted to ask just how much, but she wasn't sure if she really wanted to know. Killian's gaze moved back to her, a clever expression on his face as she silently begged him for help.

"We met at the bar earlier," he told Henry, speaking with a nonchalance Emma wished she had. "I stopped by to catch up with Robin around lunchtime and your mother was working."

"Oh - cool. So you met August too, right?"

"Yeah, just for a moment actually," Killian nodded, his eyes flickering toward Emma over the light of one of the larger candles. "He seems like a good guy. Rather helpful from what I can gather."

Emma watched as the two of them descended into easy conversation, chatting animatedly while lighting enough candles to produce a dim glow within the room. She tried not to stare too hard at the way he moved, his fingertips skillful at striking a match and the shadows toying with the definition of his toned physique. It was easy to appreciate the sight of him in her living room - she only wished she could see it a little better.

"So are you going to hang out until the storm ends, Killian?"

Henry looked so hopeful as he shoved his hands into his pockets, peeking at Emma as if to ask for her permission. It caught her a bit off guard when Killian did the same. A shrug found its way to her shoulders as she tried to keep the smile off her face at their antics.

"I'd be happy to," Killian grinned, winking at Emma. "As long as your mother doesn't mind."

He seemed so surprised that she hadn't kicked him out, a notion that was becoming humorous. She settled with the idea that he _wanted_ to stay - and she tried to push back the feeling that she _really_ wanted him to.

"I think we've established that you're welcome to stay, Killian," she replied a littl more flirtatiously than intended. "But if you're going to, I hope you brought your A-game."

He looked at her with confusion, his eyebrows knit together as he crossed his arms over his firm chest. Emma's eyes filled with mischief as she reached under the coffee table to where Henry kept the few board games they owned. It didn't take long to find the smooth box that contained the one she was looking for.

"I have to wonder about your spelling skills-" Emma taunted, a flash of bravery curving around her words as she dropped _Scrabble_ onto the table. "-and whether you can use them to win a simple competition. Honestly, Henry and I are _pretty_ great at this game and if you need spell check, I'd understand..."

"Bring it _on_ , Swan," he laughed, moving around to sit across from her. "I'm _perfectly_ capable of using words to my advantage."

Emma smirked, thankful that dull candlelight was shielding the burning red of her cheeks. This man and his neverending innuendos didn't need to know just how much he affected her - _especially_ when she wasn't sure what she could do about it.

"Well then," she retorted, flipping the tiles over. "Why don't _you_ go first, Mr. Bestseller?"

For the record, he was right. Killian had quite the way with word usage and it appeared as if that knowledge transferred quickly to placement and letter order. He made quick work of dropping ' _devious_ ' onto a double word score, an action that allowed Emma to play ' _skeptic_ ' off the final letter. He shot her a daring glance when he spelled out ' _comply_ ' and she was forced to draw a tile instead of playing a clever reply. Henry was in the curious process of placing the letters for ' _tension_ ' on a horizontal line across the board when Killian's cellphone rang.

"Hmmm - it's Robin," he explained, offering an apologetic smile as he held up a finger. "Would you mind if I take this real fast? I'm sure he's merely wanting to see to it that we're all safe."

"Oh, uh, yeah - go ahead," Emma offered, gesturing to the kitchen to offer him privacy. "We will make sure to keep an eye on things here."

"Of _that_ I have no doubt," he grinned with a wink, grabbing his tiles so he could pocket them from prying eyes. "Be right back - try not to ruin my game plan while I'm away."

Emma shook her head, stacking her letters distractedly as silence filled the space again. It was only a minute or so before she felt the teasing glare of her son beating down on her. Emma lifted her vision to find Henry's, his dark brown eyes alight with some sort of scheme.

"What's with the look?"

"Hmmm," Henry mused, pretending to study the words on the board. "I'm not sure what look you're referring to."

" _That_ look-" Emma accused, pointing his direction. "-usually means you're up to something. So what's swirling around in your head?"

"It's nothing," he replied, hiding a slight smile. " _Well_...okay, it's just..."

"Henry," Emma finally said, raising her eyebrows at him. " _Speak_."

"You and Killian just seem to get along really well," he commented, crossing his arms on top of the table. "You sure you haven't met him before today?"

 _Dammit_. Henry always saw _right_ through her. Only this time, she wasn't sure how. It didn't really matter - he _knew_. Trying to hide or deny it was a bit redundant now.

"Uh, well," Emma stuttered, trying feign a suave demeanor. "So what if I have?"

"Then I'd say the way you two act around each other makes a _lot_ more sense," Henry laughed, arranging his tiles to spell 'magic'. "Do you guys... _like_ each other?"

"Henry!"

"What? It's a question," he defended. "A _pretty_ good one actually."

"I don't...It's not...Killian is just... _ugh_ \- just _no_."

"Yeah, mom," Henry chided, raising an eyebrow. "It _sure_ sounds that way."

"Henry, it's not like that," Emma tried, knowing just how convincing she wasn't. "But _even_ if it was, Killian doesn't live here. He's just visiting for a few days."

"Then you should probably be spending some time talking to him before he leaves-" Henry concluded, narrowing his eyes at her teasingly. "-and maybe you two could do that _alone_."

The idea made Emma's heart race. She hadn't been alone with him since their little scene on the airplane and putting herself in those circumstances seemed risky. She arranged her tiles to spell ' _tempted_ ', earning herself a few extra points by playing across a triple word score.

"Anyway," Henry started, yawning ever so casually. "I _am_ getting _pretty_ tired-"

"Henry..."

"Hey - it's not _my_ fault," he grinned, sighing loudly. "I'm a teenager. I need my rest. Plus I've got to get to school early tomorrow-"

"Nice try," Emma glared, her amusement wilting. "But tomorrow is Saturday."

"Hmmm," he pondered, smirking cleverly. "Morning trip to the library? Or maybe working at the animal shelter with David? I'm sure I have _something_ going on."

"Henry, you don't have to be-"

"Yeah, but neither do _you_ ," he cut her off, tilting his head as he analyzed her. "Mom, not every guy is like my dad. Not every guy is just going to leave you."

They'd had this conversation a few times before. Henry worried about her and her heart more than any teenage kid should have to. Perhaps it was the hours he'd spent with his nose buried in classic literature or just his endless optimism, but no matter the cause, Henry was an avid believer in fairytale story lines and happy endings. Since they'd finally met one another, the only thing he'd wanted for his mother was happiness. It was just her timely luck that he'd believe Killian was the way Emma would find that.

"So I'm thinking it might be a good idea for me to get some extra sleep tonight," Henry decided, smiling suspiciously. "You know since I've got an _extremely_ busy agenda tomorrow."

"Not _true_ ," Emma opposed, clicking two letter tiles together. "What are you hoping to achieve by leaving me alone with him? It's not like we're going to fall _madly_ in love in the middle of a blackout - or at _all_ for that matter."

She added that last part more for disclaimer purposes than anything else. In all honesty, Killian was unpredictable in a way that really pulled her in. Being alone with that man would _probably_ offer a few interesting opportunities - but _not_ love. Emma didn't do love.

"Whatever goes on between you _two_ is none of _my_ business," Henry teased, rising to his feet. "This flashlight and I will be reading comic books for a bit before I go to bed."

"Aren't _you_ and I supposed to be spending time together?"

"Yeah and we will this weekend," he assured her. "But you should talk to _him_ while he's here, Mom. I think...I think he likes you."

"Henry, he _barely_ knows me," Emma disputed, trying to calm the butterflies that idea ignited in her stomach. "I think your imagination is getting the best of you."

"Maybe," he grinned. "But there's only one way to find out. Goodnight, Mom!"

He moved fast, heading for the doorway before Emma could say anything further. She ran a flustered hand down her face in effort to gather an explanation for why her kid had decided to remove himself in the middle of a rather competitive word game. It _definitely_ wasn't so his mother could engage in a whole _other_ game with the Irishman in the next room. Emma shook her head hard, willing away the thought of this being _anything_ but a friendly chase. _Just a bit of cat and mouse,_ she thought silently. Nothing more.

The tortuous tumbling of her mind had barely begun when she caught a flash of dark hair at the entrance of the dim room, the black set bold against the lack of light surrounding her. It was a color Emma was familiar with - that shaggy, messy head could have very easily belonged to her son. But this one didn't. _Dammit_.

 _Here we go_ , Emma thought as her veins pulsed and her eyes betrayed her.

"Sorry about that, love," Killian offered sheepishly, peering around the room after a moment. "Where's your boy?"

"Well," Emma hesitated, trying to remain stoic. "Not here."

"Uh, yeah - clearly," he replied with an arched eyebrow. "Is this my cue to head out?"

"No...well, I mean... _no_ ," she rambled, finally rising from the couch with a sigh. "But if you'd like to stay, I'm opening a bottle of wine."

"It would appear as if my daunting presence drives you to drink, Swan."

"Don't flatter yourself, _Jones_ ," she shot back, nibbling her lower lip. "I just don't want to drink a 2007 Merlot from Tuscany by myself."

"Well, if I recall correctly, _that_ -" Killian smirked, moving to stand in front of her. "-was an excellent year as far as wine is concerned."

"Sounds like a theory to be tested," Emma smiled, crossing her arms across her chest. "If you're up for it..."

"I suppose I could assist you," he laughed. "Lead the way?"

Emma sighed heavily as she turned toward the darkened kitchen. She'd only shared alcohol with Killian Jones once, but that single time was enough to know that this would only end in questionable circumstances. It was only once she laid her eyes on the man with the adorable smirk leaning in the doorway of her kitchen that Emma realized there were some _questions_ that wouldn't be so bad to answer.


	7. Chapter 7

**Alright, here we are...finally. School is actually starting to calm down a bit so hopefully I'll be getting back to more regular updates. I hope you're all still reading! The comments and support on this story have been phenomenal. Thank you all :] and enjoy! All rights/characters belong to OUAT. I own nothing.**

* * *

"It's _quite_ the collection you've got here, Swan."

She smirked at the way he was studying her elaborate wine rack, his eyes foregoing a scan of the labels so he could try to read her instead. She'd been busy carrying several candles into the room in order to light up the kitchen a bit. It was the softness of her gaze and the golden glow of her long, wavy hair that had quickly won his attention as she selected the bottle that had been mentioned only moments ago.

"Fondest regards to Grandpa Marco on that one," she smiled, shaking her head gently when she noticed his confusion. "Marco is August's grandfather. He reconnected with him a few years back. He actually owns a small vineyard in Tuscany so he sends a couple of bottles to us once in a while."

"So he's the man from the picture?"

"What picture?"

 _Dammit_. He hadn't meant to admit any analysis regarding the pictures on the table in the hallway. He hoped she wouldn't be upset that he'd been interested enough to take a _tiny_ look - even though it was a curious and extremely intrigued look.

"The ones in the entryway," he explained, scratching softly behind his ear. "There's one with August and an older man. I wondered if the pair might be related."

"Oh - I guess...yeah," she confirmed in realization, a half smile finding her lips. "I almost forget that photo was out there. I love that picture. That hallway table holds a lot of important memories. Seeing those two finally find one another again was a _very_ happy moment."

"I can imagine so," Killian replied, offering a slow nod. "It seems as if you've got several moments displayed there that could be considered one of a kind."

He could almost see the way the wheels turned in her mind, cycling through the different instances the frames were holding. Her eyes went wide after a moment as she appeared to realize the specific picture he was alluding to.

"You know you didn't have to hide him from me, Emma."

"I could say the same about _you_ and this mysterious ex of yours."

Killian's eyebrows furrowed at that, his heart sinking slightly at her biting tone. She wasn't _angry_ about it - she was...confused. She was maybe even a little hurt. He could see it in the swirling green of her stare.

"Sorry, it's not...I just meant-" she stammered, trying to explain a little more graciously. "-that you don't have to explain. Neither of us do. We don't even know each other."

She was right. They didn't owe each other anything. So why was he so anxious to make sense of this woman and the way she'd catapulted into his life?

"Would you like to though?"

"Would I like to what?"

"Know one another," he replied, a hopeful expression filling his features. "Maybe just a little?"

"Hmmm," she pondered, tilting her head as she studied his words. "I'm guessing that's what _you_ want."

"Perhaps," he laughed. "But maybe I'm hoping you desire the same thing."

He watched her eyes dance with possibility, the temptation evident as he awaited her answer. He hadn't been this honest with himself lately let alone anyone else, but of all the things he dared to hope for in his current position, learning more about this woman was at the top of that very short list.

"It almost sounds like you'd _like_ to share," she grinned. "I thought _I_ was the open book."

"Well I suppose you've got to _give_ in order to _get_ ," he replied, settling back in his seat. "So go ahead, love. Ask away."

The words had barely left his mouth when he realized he'd just given her license to inquire without limits. He stared deeply, biting his lip as he pondered the one subject he and his cracked heart weren't eager to discuss. She seemed to read his thoughts and her tiny smile told him she understood.

"I take it that you don't really want to talk about her?"

"Uh, well maybe... _not_ ," he admitted sheepishly. "At least not tonight. It would be a shame to spoil such a brilliant bottle of wine and an even better conversation with trials of the past. Plus I'm not sure a few glasses of Merlot would be enough for such a chat."

"If it's alcohol you seek, I happen to know where you can get _quite_ a lot of that," she teased. "If you play your cards right, you might even get a few words of advice as well."

"Is this you inviting me for a drink at your place of business, Swan?"

"Could be," she shrugged, her gaze playful and light. "I suppose I'd have to brush upon my bartending skills in that case, wouldn't I?"

"Well," he smirked, winking cleverly. "It _certainly_ couldn't hurt."

Time began to blend together in a way Killian had forgotten was possible. The past few weeks had droned on, each hour reminding him continually of what he had lost and how he'd failed, but Emma - _well_ , she was quickly becoming the desired distraction he needed from his recently fractured reality.

Part of him wanted to believe she _could_ be more than that. Part of him hoped desperately that she _would_ be.

As the rain continued its steady pattern just outside the window and candlelight lit up their surroundings, another beautifully sequenced sound began to fill the kitchen. It was her laugh - her genuine, gentle, sweetly earned _laugh_. Killian couldn't recall a time when such a simple sound had made him so giddy.

Their conversation flowed as freely as alcohol had for him during his recent midnight hour binges. Tonight was different though. Killian had spent so many nights and even a few days using libations to comfort his tortured soul. It had been nothing more than a tool to help him forget and to numb the self destructive emotions that invaded his every thought.

As he watched her animated speech and the way she seemed to brighten up the darkness, he realized he didn't _need_ wine to remove himself from these draining interactions with the demons of his past. Emma was a better diversion than anything he'd find in a bottle.

"Oh, come _on_ ," she taunted. "You traveled all over the globe on your book tour and you don't have any great airport stories? Not a _single_ one?"

"There's a reason I don't check bags, love," he divulged with a smirk, taking a sip from his still rather full glass. "Experience is a cruel teacher."

"Hey - you _can't_ just leave it at that," she laughed, her eyes pleading. "You _have_ to tell me!"

He hadn't seen her so excitedly interested in something before. It was difficult not to muse at how adorable she looked, her feet tucked under as she sat up straight on the kitchen chair while resting her elbows on the length of the table separating them. Her eyes were brilliantly green, even in the dull dimness of the house.

"Let's just say that it's unfortunate to pick up the wrong suitcase at baggage claim," he admitted, scratching behind his ear with embarrassment. "Especially when the one you end up taking belongs to a rather... _elderly_ woman."

"Ha! So you're saying that you ended up thieving the bag of some old lady at the airport because you were just _dying_ to see what sort of garments-"

"I had _just_ gotten off the phone with my publisher and I was in a hurry as well as _quite_ distracted, Swan," he cut her off, waving a hand in embarrassed defense. "As _you_ know, there's been a time or two when I haven't shown much grace in traveling circumstances."

He could almost swear he saw her blush at the way he'd brought up London so casually. Killian knew he was mentioning it in hopes that it might play into this little game of theirs - or that it might invoke a even _more_ honest response from her. He'd settle for whichever came first.

"I guess I can vouch for that," she grinned, clearly reflecting on the coffee spill as she ran her finger down the side of her wine glass. "So this whole state of being distracted...would you say it happens to you _often_?"

Killian felt his breath hitch in his throat as he watched her teeth caress her bottom lip. He had only seen this version of her in a few rare and oh so fleeting moments. She was teasing him. She was _tempting_ him.

Was she trying to _seduce_ him? Was it okay that he wouldn't have a problem with her doing so? Killian ran an anxious tongue across his own lip as he searched for a proper or perhaps _less_ than proper reply.

"Not _too_ frequently," he breathed, his gaze heavy against hers. "But lately there's been a situation or two that's unexpectedly gained my _utmost_ attention."

" _Ah_ \- well, that's interesting," she replied, leaning forward just slightly. "So what _does_ it take to break the focus of Killian Jones?"

 _God_ , what was she trying to do to him? A slowly building fire was burning in her stare and the movement of her fingertips on the glass holding the deep red wine was causing his mind to wander into dangerous territory. The silence was thick with a tension that _begged_ to be snapped in half, but his recently acquired insecurity had him frozen in place. As much as he wanted to close the gap between them, he couldn't do so impulsively. He had to be sure that they were on the same page - ironically _and_ metaphorically of course.

"Well, love," he said softly, his breath raspy and as confident as possible in such a state. "Is there a reason you're so curious?"

"There might be," she shrugged, standing to retrieve the bottle from a nearby counter. "Perhaps I'm just trying to put you together."

"You seem to think I'm made up of some rather complicated pieces - ones that look a bit difficult to assemble."

Emma shrugged, a smirk lifting the corner of her mouth. Killian had to hope that she saw him more as a mystery rather than a broken man. He didn't know if she realized just how much repair he required - hell, he wasn't even sure if _he_ knew. All he could be certain of was the fact that she understood something about him that few people _ever_ could - and he wasn't even sure what it was.

"I guess that depends," she replied, pouring a small amount of wine for herself. "Is that how you'd _like_ me to see you?"

Yeah, she was _definitely_ toying with him. Killian felt himself losing ground as she twirled the glass, causing the wine it contained catch his eye. She wasn't drinking much either. He furrowed his eyebrows as he wondered silently what had caused her to move - to desire to remedy a glass that didn't actually _need_ refilling. Her gaze wavered just enough, drawing a shaky sigh from her lips.

He caught it then - that tiny sense of relief filling her expression. The unexpected distance she had just barely put between them wasn't detachment. It was _desire_. It was _danger_. It was all aligned with the fact that _she_ felt it too.

"I suppose I wouldn't mind," he replied, looking up from his glass with a crooked half smile. "As long as you're willing _to_ see me, you're welcome to do it any way you want, love."

Her eyes went wide as they refused to leave his. Killian fell so quickly into her that dark green that he almost missed the way she distractedly toppled the wine glass onto the counter. The sharp, fast shatter of the tumbler snapped both of them back to attention and Emma allowed a subtle gasp to leave her lips.

"Ugh - _dammit_..."

"Em- _whoa_ ," Killian breathed, rising to his feet and crossing the floor to where she was standing. "Bloody _hell_ , lass. Are you okay?"

"Oh, _god_. Well, uh, yeah-" she blushed, holding up a slightly cut hand with a weak smile. "-just a little mess. Let me just get something to..."

"No, _no_ , let me," he insisted, his eyes searching the room. "Do you have a first aid kit?"

"Under the sink," she winced, moving aside so he could grab it. "But I'm sure it's fine."

"I'm sure it is too," he nodded, gazing up at her. "But Swan, your hand is cut. Let me help you?"

Her lips pressed together without refute, a compliance that Killian hadn't expected. His heart fluttered a bit as he reached for her wrist and held it gently so he could get a closer look. Reaching for a nearby hand towel with questioning eyes, an inquiring gaze that was given permission by her soft smirk. He turned the water on, testing it with his fingertips before running the towel under the faucet. Killian concluded she was probably right as he noticed the way the severed finger was barely bleeding, but she was _allowing_ him to take care of her. He sure as _hell_ wasn't going to cut any corners.

"Alright," he said with a deep breath and what was likely a very goofy grin. "Let's get a look, love."

"Again with the ' _love_ '..."

"Mmm _hmm_ ," he mused, dabbing at the injury carefully. "Does it truly bother you that much?"

"It's just rather presumptuous is all."

He flashed his teeth at her less than irritated comment, knowing full well that Emma didn't _actually_ have an issue with his word choice. Killian flipped the lid on the kit he'd retrieved, rummaging through it for a bandage.

"Perhaps you're reading into it more than you should, _love_ ," he teased, trying not to dwell on the way her hand brushed his.

"Maybe you _want_ me to read into it, _Jones_."

"And if I do?"

The reply was past his lips before he could think twice. He watched insecurity shift in her eyes, a small flicker that lived right behind that mask of amusement. It wasn't that she disliked the term. It was more the casual context in which his accent utilized it. It almost appeared as if Emma Swan was _terrified_ of that four letter word, no matter the reason for its use.

"I suppose just using my actual name is out of the question."

"I'm open to that idea, Swan," Killian smiled, starting the process of wrapping the bandage around her hand.

"I didn't mean that one-"

Sealing the bandage over the small wound, Killian squeezed her fingers firmly but in a caress that cut off her words. Their eyes locked fiercely, the bold blue battling the guarded green. Her skin was searing hot against his and that heat invited him closer in a way he hoped was amenable.

"Ah," Killian acknowledged, his hand still holding tight to hers. " _Emma_ then?"

"Yeah," she answered, her eyes flickering to where her fingers grazed his. "That's the one."

Killian pressed his lips into a smirk, one that caused her to bite her lip. He smoothed the bandage skillfully, watching her watch him with a curiosity he couldn't pinpoint. In a small act of bravery, he lifted her wrapped hand to his lips. It was a only quick kiss, but it was a gesture that made her eyes widen and his heart flutter.

"Well, there you go, Emma," he said softly, holding the bandaged fingers between his with a smile. "All better now, _love_."

"Thanks, _Killian_ ," she teased in return, a bit of surprise still on her face at the way his lips had touched her skin. "Even though you really didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to."

Damn, he was sure giving new meaning to the term 'impulsive'. So many admissions had fallen from his mouth in only a single evening. He had to wonder if it was due to the dim darkness - maybe it was causing his courage to stir after weeks of being absent. Maybe she made him _want_ to be honest and bold. Maybe _he_ just wanted _her_.

Bloody _hell_ \- of _course_ that was it. He wanted her with every ache in his bones, every tingle dancing across his flesh, and every searing lock of their eyes. It was precisely the never ending burn in her gaze that was putting him on a rather bold path in that instant. It was that taunting, glowing green that tempted him in a way he wanted - a way he _needed_.

Yes, her eyes were saying only one thing - _I dare you_.

He couldn't wait any longer. He couldn't endure the building tension between them for another second. He definitely couldn't turn it back to her - it was _his_ turn. He was definitely going to take advantage of it.

With an unexpected bravery, Killian descended forward to press his lips to hers. His hands moved without thought as he lifted them, one to caress her cheek and the other to rest against the middle of her back. His teeth nipped teasingly at her lower lip as he waited for permission. After a moment, he feared he may not get it.

 _Not a chance_ , he thought as he set his hands firmly at her hips and her lower back bumped against the countertop. The kiss burned hot as her mouth parted, some emotion Killian wanted to feel driving his actions. Emma's hands finally reached to the back of his head and dug gently into his scalp with passionate intent, the kind that made his knees shake and his pulse vibrate.

She pulled back briefly, fire flashing fiercely in her eyes as he chased her lips with his own. He caught them quickly and his continued kiss seemed to surprise her. He sighed against her willing mouth, reaching up to hold her jaw as she moved her lips tortuously against his.

 _Damn_ , he wanted this. He wanted _more_.

It took Killian longer than it should have to feel how his hands were gripping the countertop, trapping her somewhere between the surface and the stifling burn of his body. As much as he wanted her there, he remembered that Emma was the type of woman who preferred the upper hand. He wasn't about to lose his own control, but he figured he could at least allow her to rise just _slightly_ above him - after all, she was already getting a rise out of _him_.

Tentatively, his hands drifted to the backside of her legs. She responded instantly with a trembling gasp as he lifted her to sit on the surface she had just been pushed up against. The new position put them at eye level, his plan of accommodating her strong will dashed as soon as his fingertips dropped to rest on her thighs. The way they both fell quickly back into the promising kiss told him she actually didn't seem to mind.

Every single movement seemed to set him ablaze - the way her hair felt under his fingertips, the gentle caress of her tongue against his, and the way her lower lip quivered when she breathed him in. He wanted to _devour_ this woman. There was no way he could ever deny what was rapidly becoming a need.

Emma's arms wrapped around his neck as he clung to her legs, jerking her closer. She moaned softly into his mouth, a sound that Killian almost believed to be an escalating invitation. Her hands moved and dug into the collar of his shirt as he realized it _was_. Yeah, it _definitely_ was.

He was only seconds away from throwing the small amount of caution he still had out the window and into the rain when the lights flickered. The small surge of electricity was weak at first, but it was enough for them to start to pull back. Killian absorbed the final touch of her smooth lips, opening his eyes lazily to find the dwindling lust in her hazy stare. The room lit up fully only a moment later, the harsh brightness causing her to quickly shield her gaze. Killian narrowed his own vision, trying to keep her with him. His fingertips flexed against her legs and that green he was learning to adore stared back at him. It made him smile in a way he hadn't planned on, but he was delightfully surprised when she returned his small grin.

"Emma, that, _uh_...that was-"

" _Yeah_ ," she breathed, a smirk ridden sigh on her lips. "It was."

Killian laughed gently, holding tight to the counter on each side of her. His stance straightened as she exhaled and leaned back against the cupboard. They remained in a heated staring contest, one that Killian was loathe to break away from. He lingered in the glow of the kiss as he kept her enclosed in the space between his strong arms. Emma allowed herself a moment to catch the breath she'd lost, a reaction that gained a proud smile from him.

"So," she exhaled, her voice quiet and slightly breathless. "Looks like we have power again."

"Excellent observation, love," he laughed, holding his stance and her attention. "But I guess that means I'm supposed to go."

"Oh - _uh_ , yeah...I suppose so," Emma agreed, stumbling over her complying words. "Let me just...I'll walk out with you."

He smiled weakly, his disappointment in her not asking him to stay quite evident. Killian stepped back as she jumped down from the counter and started the now illuminated path to the front door. Emma pulled on the knob, exposing the dwindling rainstorm and the darkened outside world. He watched as she tucked a long strand of hair behind her ear before she raised her eyes back to his.

God, _he_ wanted to be the one doing that. He wanted nothing more than to tangle his fingers in the blonde waves tumbling down her shoulders. He wanted to _touch_ her. He wanted to _taste_ her. He wanted it _all_.

"Emma," he said quickly, turning to face her in a brave gesture. "I'd like...I really want to see you again."

"Oh...umm-" she swallowed, leaning against the side of the door. "-well, I...I don't-"

"Swan," he tried again, a half smile taking up the corner of his mouth. "Hear me out. I'm going to be here for a few more days - and I'd really like to know what it's like to run into you on purpose. I know you've got Henry for the weekend, but maybe next week before I head back to London?"

"See - _that's_ the issue though, Killian...I mean, you're just visiting," she replied, her tone slightly sad. "You're here for a few more days and then what? You'll be gone."

Killian paused, his eyes widening as he nibbled his lip. He hadn't allowed himself to put much thought to what would happen when the time came to leave Storybrooke. Gold had given him limited days and the one week he'd been allowed wasn't a realistic amount of time to get to know someone - even though it was possible that he'd already started to fall for her. He wasn't thinking modestly when a bold statement left his lips after only seconds of silence.

"London is only a seven hour flight away."

"I know that - but it's not one you can make whenever you want to," she responded, surprise and reserve conflicting in her features. "Killian, it's _London_ \- it's where you live. _That's_ your home."

" _Ireland_ is my home, love," he told her, his head tilted in study. "But if I'm being honest, it's been a rather inadequate home for a while now. I'm not opposed to spending some time away while I get some things sorted out."

"So you're just going to reallocate your life...because of _her_?"

She was definitely starting to decipher him, a fact he was strangely okay with. Breathing deeply, he reached carefully for her hands. She allowed it with a soft gasp, permitting him to lift her wrists and press their palms together. His stare hinged on the way she slipped her fingers through his, interlocking their hands with intent.

"Yes, I, _uh_...I suppose that's the large part of why I'm okay with taking a beat," he admitted finally. "But I'd like to explain if you'll be willing to listen. I'm not about to abandon what I've left in Europe, but I'd like you to know exactly what I'm hoping to leave behind. Maybe at the bar over that drink you offered?"

She was fighting an internal battle, one he _desperately_ needed to fall in his favor. He'd spent far too much time ignoring the truth. Maybe laying it out on the table would help him work through it. Maybe _she_ would help him in a way he hadn't previously hoped for. She was holding his hands, but he had to wonder if she _truly_ knew just how much she had in her grasp.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah," she confirmed, trying to conceal a subtle smile. "Okay."

"Okay," he grinned in return as his stare lingered on hers. "When are you free, love?"

Emma pursed her lips in thought and Killian continued to trace the path of her fingertips as he waited for her to sift through her mental schedule. She seemed a bit hesistant, her breath starting to stutter as she watched him. He offered a reassuring smile, one that attempted to tell her that this was a good idea. He was nothing short of pleasantly surprised when it looked as if she believed that.

"Monday?"

"You'll be working?"

"I wouldn't tell you to come by if I wasn't planning on it, Killian," she teased, her eyes alight with anticipation. "I told August I'd close up on Sunday night and then I'll be there all day on Monday - open at eleven."

"That's quite an open range of time you're giving me there, Swan," he taunted, lowering their matched hands as he raised his eyebrow. "But I suppose I can always appreciate a chance to use the element of surprise in my favor."

"You never miss out on a prospective win, do you?"

"Never," he laughed, rolling her hands between his to ward off the chill sneaking inside. "Which is why I'd be remiss if I didn't ask for permission to kiss you goodnight before I go."

"Ah - _quite_ the opportunist," she replied, biting her lip in diversion. "As far as I've seen, you're not really the asking type."

"I like to think that the asking-" he explained, lifting her fingertips to his lips with temptation. "-is me being a gentleman."

"Except you already kissed me once without question, Killian..."

Without allowing her to say another word, he lifted his hands to cup her jaw with a soft caress before pulling her lips gently toward his. She didn't resist - in fact, she seemed more prepared and accepting this time as he guided her mouth carefully against his. Her lips were even smoother this time, a sensation he really wanted to get used to. Emma rested her hands on his chest, her fingers eventually sneaking up to run through his thick scalp. She sighed that heavenly sound when he pulled back, a goofy grin on his face the moment his eyes opened. His heart quickened and spun in his chest when he found her lips curved upward in a very similar expression.

"So," he breathed, his forehead resting lightly against hers as he stroked her chin. "Monday it is."

"Yeah," she nodded, toying with a button on his shirt and smoothing the fabric down. "Monday it is."

"But in the mean time...if I need to find you-"

"Then you'll find me," she acknowledged, finally accepting the way they kept doing just that.

"Yeah," he agreed, running his thumb over her cheek. "I seem to be getting quite good at that."

* * *

Emma hadn't been able to focus on anything but the kiss all morning. Well, if she was truly being honest, she could think of nothing but the kiss and that man since she watched his rental car vacate her driveway the night before. She could barely remember the way the wood of her front door felt against her back as she feel against it once he'd plodded down the walkway. She was having trouble recalling how long she laid awake in bed, her eyes fixed on the ceiling as the image of his boldly blue eyes filled her thoughts.

It all felt like a daydream, a ridiculous thought that she'd forget about once she found herself busy at the bar. It was only once her mind centered on the memory of his fierce gaze cutting through the dim light of the kitchen as she made coffee that morning that she finally sighed with realization. She'd been trying to mentally plan for the order she needed to make to a vendor when the conclusion hit her head on - Killian Jones wasn't about to leave her. Not _yet_ anyway.

As much as she tried to shake it, some part of Emma was perfectly fine with such a fact. She'd spent little time around him, but the hours that had been filled with his presence made her want more. She just hadn't decided how _much_ more yet.

"So how's Henry?"

August's voice made her jump and she offered a small smile in recovery. She began to wipe off the top of the bar as she reminisced the morning and her son's smug grin over breakfast at Granny's. Emma had admitted to _nothing_ regarding Killian, even when he asked multiple times between sips of his hot chocolate. He'd been so excited about the prospect of Killian being the guy Emma wasn't ready to say she wanted. When the _hell_ did her son become so obsessed with this _damn_ author? _He prefers 'writer'_ , she thought with a blushing grin.

"He's good," she replied. "We had breakfast at the diner and then he went fishing with David. He's going to swing by for dinner around five and then he's actually having a camp out in the backyard with a few friends tonight. I figured I could allow it since I've got to take care of some stuff here tonight."

"That's almost like a _normal_ thing," August laughed, musing at the way they'd encountered one of those common life events he and Emma had both missed out on as kids. "You sure you'll be okay to close up tonight?"

"Of course - I'm planning on it," she nodded. "They're teenage boys, August. I left him money for pizza so I doubt they'll need me."

"I don't know if _that's_ true," he retorted, stacking a few shot glasses. "I think Henry's gotten rather used to you being around. He missed you while you were away."

Emma smiled weakly, trying to ward off the guilt she felt knowing she'd spent so much time away from him lately. As the cloth of her towel across the bar's surface, she realized that perhaps it wasn't _just_ her conscience that had her feeling a little melancholic in regards to her son. The fact was that Henry was getting older, his teenage years moving far too fast and his independence growing. It might not be long before he would be ready to grow up completely - there might not be many years left before he wouldn't need her.

The part of that picture that really shook her was that _she_ needed Henry. He'd been her purpose for the past five years. He'd been the force that helped her pull her life together - helped her find stability and family and a _home_. Knowing he'd definitely be able to care for himself when the time came was _supposed_ to be a fulfilling realization - and it was for the most part. Yet if she wasn't spending her time taking care of Henry, she'd be forced to focus that interest on her _own_ well being and happiness. _That_ was an area she didn't have much success in.

"So are you going to tell me how you know Killian?"

Emma's hand slipped, knocking a metal cocktail shaker to the floor. God _dammit_ \- was she truly _that_ terrible at putting on an act?

"Who?"

"Nice try, Em," August chuckled, picking up the shaker and spinning it skillfully before setting it back on the bartop. "But my skull's not made of wood. Anyone with working eyes and even a fraction of a brain can see that yesterday was not the first time you've met him."

"Oh, _great_ \- first Henry and now _you_ ," Emma replied, attempting a dramatic eye roll. "I don't understand why you both think I've got some sort of connection to this guy."

"I don't have to _think_ anything, Emma," August told her, raising his eyebrows. "I can _see_ it. So maybe you just barely met the guy, but it's like you _know_ him."

Emma's mouth was slightly agape, her voice trapped and immobile. She knew exactly what August meant. On some level and possibly in some other life, it was as if she really _did_ know Killian. He was broken and battered in a way she recognized, but at the same time he was confident and bold - something she'd been known to be once or twice in her own life. She couldn't explain it, but somehow and in several ways, Killian was like _her_. He was nothing short of a kindred spirit.

" _Fine_ \- you don't have to explain," August cut in, accepting her silence as stubbornness. "I can always interrogate him tonight at the poker game."

Emma scoffed - of _course_ Killian would be joining the regularly scheduled boys' night Robin hosted at his company warehouse by the docks. The knowledge that in a matter of hours, August would have the power _and_ circumstances to question her mysterious Irishman without her there was unsettling, but she couldn't tell him. Not yet. Oh and when did she start referring to this intriguing foreigner as _hers_?

Moving toward the liquor lined shelves, she was hit with a creative thought. Emma lifted herself on her toes, retrieving two different brands of rum with a smirk on her lips. Despite their heated moment during the blackout, she knew the game still raged on between the two of them and perhaps this was the appropriate time to make a move of sorts. She turned on her heel and set the two glass bottles on the wood surface of the bar. August crossed his arms across his chest, his lips quirking into a curious grin.

"I know I like to drink, Em, but two bottles? It's barely past noon."

"They're for tonight," she retorted, shaking her head humorously as she grabbed a blank receipt. "Take them to your poker game as my generous and thoughtful offering."

"As much as I appreciate the kindness," he teased, watching her scribble something on the receipt before folding it over. "You're not sending these for _my_ benefit, are you?"

"Not exactly," Emma said after a moment, taping the folded paper closed and handing to him. "But you don't have to act like such a know-it-all, _Booth_."

"I'll be happy to deliver your gift to Killian, Em," he replied, tucking the note respectfully into his back pocket. " _Very_ attentive of you to remember what you poured for him while he was here yesterday."

"You know I have a sharp memory."

"But this was _one_ drink for a supposed stranger and he didn't even finish it," August reminded her, a knowing shrug on his shoulder. "Quite a recollection about someone you don't seem to know...or _care_ to know."

God, he was right. Killian had consumed her thoughts since he'd spilled coffee all over her shirt, toppling over her latte and her fierce determination to be alone simultaneously in a single clumsy instant. The fact was that she couldn't seem to shake her curiosity regarding this man - so why was she trying so hard?

"I never said that."

"I know," August laughed, dodging the towel she tossed at him. "But for the record, you didn't _have_ to. Lies have never suited you, _Swan_."

 _Oh hell,_ Emma thought. What was this? But more importantly, what _could_ it be?


	8. Chapter 8

**Alright here we go :] this was a fun chapter to write. The pace of this story has been super slow to this point, but now that we've spent some time building things up, things will start to happen a bit quicker :] enjoy! All rights/characters belong to OUAT. I own nothing!**

* * *

"I do so wish I could take pity on you, but you had your chance to explain _several_ times, Jones," Robin taunted, stacking his poker chips skillfully. "Let the lesson be learned that when you put these things off, you end up getting to narrate your problems to _more_ than just your best mate."

Killian narrowed his eyes at the way his friend was gesturing across the room, pointing out the fact that they weren't going to be having this long awaited chat in private. No, Robin fully planned on interrogating him _right_ in the middle of what Killian had learned was their weekly boys' night.

The warehouse by the docks wasn't overly large, but there was adequate space for storing supplies needed to run a locksmith company as well as appropriate room for a Sunday night poker game. Killian had learned on the way over that they kept the game small, usually hosting it on _Saturday_ night. This time, they scheduled it for Sunday evening due to extended weekend Storybrooke was observing. Monday was Founder's Day, an event that Robin and everyone else he'd spoken to since crossing the town line had made out to be a pretty big deal. Killian wasn't well acquainted with small town life so knowing just _how_ big of a deal wasn't something he dared anticipate, but he had a feeling that the day was going to be plastered with _quite_ the celebration.

Only days earlier, Killian would have preferred to be a whole _other_ sort of plastered while avoiding the celebration altogether, but _now_ \- well, now he had to wonder if attending might give him a chance to see Emma. He smirked as he remembered that they'd agreed on Monday. Maybe she'd planned it that way for a reason. He found his mind turning as he pondered just how long that list of reasons might be.

"I doubt this is the time _or_ place, Rob," Killian attempted, dropping the cooler of beer he'd toted from the truck to the warehouse floor. "I don't think turning boys' night into a makeshift version of the Lonely Hearts Club would bode well for a first impression."

"You'd be surprised just what kind of company you're in," Robin said in a hushed tone, nodding toward the two men chatting idly across the room. "These guys might have more empathy for your situation than you know."

Killian furrowed his eyes as he looked over his shoulder at the men Robin was referring to. He'd been introduced to Will when they'd arrived, one of the company employees who possessed a quick wit and quite a talent for storytelling from what he could glean so far. The man was rather animated and seemed able to draw a laugh from just about anyone as he spoke thunderously and with an accent Killian couldn't quite place. It was reassuring to have a guy like that around - the knowledge that there would be someone to fill the silence so Killian didn't have to would _hopefully_ allow him to relax.

Another man named Arthur - who actually hailed from a northern rural county in England - sat at the head of the table with shaggy dark hair and one of the better poker faces Killian had ever seen. He was shuffling cards distractedly, nodding at all the appropriate parts of Will's tall tale. Robin had mentioned earlier that he'd moved here for a fresh start with his young daughter after a rather nasty split from his wife. It was reassuring to think that Arthur could probably understand what he was going through - well, _if_ he decided to share his story of course.

"Hey - _listen_ ," Robin said suddenly, landing at Killian's side and offering him a beer. "I know I've been givin' you hell about all this. I'm not trying to be an arse - just worried about you, mate."

"You needn't worry about me, Locksley," Killian assured him, tilting the neck of the bottle toward his friend. "I always survive, yeah?"

"That's true, _but_ -" Robin agreed, clinking his own beer with Killian's. "-it's more about the condition in which you do so."

"Hey, what's _that_ supposed to mean? I'm fine-"

"Oh, please," Robin chuckled, shaking his head. "You should have seen yourself the night you got here! Talk about failed a sight..."

Killian slugged his friend's arm gently before taking a swallow from the bottle in his hand. Robin's laughter rumbled in his chest as he took the hit gracefully, his eyes bright with humor and relief. It was that look from Robin that Killian sought refuge in - the one that promised he'd lay off. Killian knew when he was ready to talk about it, Robin would be there to listen.

"I'm glad you decided to make the journey, Killian," he admitted with a smile. "Even if you weren't up for it initially. It's been good having you here."

"Aye," Killian agreed, trying to contain his rapidly approaching grin. "I think being here has been just what I needed."

Robin smirked and Killian had to wonder if he knew the real motive behind such a statement. As much as being in Storybrooke had been surprisingly pleasant, it wasn't _just_ the presence of a best friend that was making this trip the perfect diversion. With a concealed grin, Killian tried not to linger on the _actual_ reason why - or the memory of the gorgeous green eyes that belonged to that reason.

"Alright, mate - keep your chips close and your cards closer," Robin warned him loudly with taunting eyes toward the other two men. "Ya can't trust 'em - _especially_ thieving Scarlet over there."

So here he was - a transplanted visitor in the middle of what appeared to be a regular scene for this group of misfits. Robin had shoved him toward the table moments earlier, informing the group that he was going to call David to see when the bloody _hell_ he and August would be arriving. Knowing that Emma's brother of sorts would be attending the evening was a fact that comforted Killian - although he had no idea why. Well, maybe he had _some_ idea why.

"I feel for ya, mate," Arthur offered, a sympathetic smile on his face as he shuffled the cards with nonchalance. "At least I only had to _hear_ of my ex's indiscretions. Walking into the scene of the crime seems like a whole other level of brutality."

Killian nodded subtly, toying with a bottle cap as he pushed the image back out of his head. Finding Milah half undressed with a man he'd never really liked all that much anyway had been shocking, but it was a source of irony he had to recognize. The two biggest promoters of Killian's writing career had taken it upon themselves to make sure he was crushed to the point of foregoing the profession altogether.

Well, until he met Emma that is. He wasn't about to mention it to anyone just yet, but he'd spent nearly the whole day writing. Much of it was fractured - just little snippets that didn't weave an actual storyline, but Killian was in no position to argue with _any_ cooperation from his temperamental muse.

"I think heartbreak is unpleasant in just about _any_ form, mate," Killian replied, offering a sympathetic smile to the man preparing to play dealer. "But dishonesty on top of loss is definitely one way of upping the ante - no pun intended."

"Aye, that it is," Arthur laughed, putting the cards into a neat deck on the table. "Sadly, most of the poor chaps that attend this little card club of our know all about broken hearts. Isn't that right, Will?"

"Mmmm," the man hummed, dropping into a chair and taking a drink from the beer bottle he'd just cracked open. "I suppose that's love though - sometimes people turn on you and you'll never understand why."

Killian smirked at the truth of that. He'd spent countless hours trying to piece together the reasoning for Milah's actions to no avail. Perhaps there wasn't sense to be made. Maybe he'd never be able to justify what she'd done. Maybe she didn't deserve that - or maybe Killian just deserved more.

Perhaps he even deserved _Emma_ \- or perhaps it was too soon to dream of such a thing. He caught quick hold of his mind and his heart as they both began to spin with the possibilities surrounding that woman. He knew he shouldn't jump the gun - tempting as it was. Tonight wasn't about that though. Tonight was about a _different_ kind of gamble - and it was one he was oddly excited to take.

It was only after a couple of beers, the loss of quite a few chips, and a series of rather genuine laughs that Killian realized just how glad he was that he took the risk. The hours dwindled with ease and he quickly noticed that his anxiety was doing just that as well. It was a relief to find himself in this fascinating state of normal - even if it wasn't exactly normal for _him_.

The ragtag group of gentlemen that had gathered for a night of cards and some creative cursing was eclectic but also sincere in a way that surprised Killian. It was easy going and humorous, a situation that lacked sympathetic stares and awkward inquiries - something he was extremely thankful for. Even if it was only for the night, it was nice to truly feel like 'one of the guys'.

He'd forgotten just how much he missed that.

Killian hadn't had many people who played a key role in his life across the ocean for a while now. Once Robin moved away, he didn't go out to catch a new band at the nearby pub or try to score cheap seats to a weekend soccer match anymore. His schedule had been sporadic and jam packed with travel plans for the past few years. His elaborate obligations left little time for anyone but Milah, a fact that was now all for naught. Taking up one of the chairs around the poker table seemed to offer the idea of a new friendship or two, an idea that made Killian a little more confident than he'd felt in quite some time.

Maybe he could survive this - maybe he could find the kind of happiness that came with regular poker nights. Whether or not that happiness could be found in Storybrooke was something he was just starting to contemplate.

"God, they are _idiots_."

The voice interrupting Killian's speculation came from August, the shaggy haired man who'd just pulled a chair up next to him. The statement was directed toward Robin and Will, the two rather drunk men who were loudly discussing an assortment of asinine business ideas. David had left only moments ago, his wife picking him up with a humorous eye roll. Killian peered sideways at August, watching him shake his head in amusement. He was unexpected company, but Killian had been hoping to find time to chat with him. Not about Emma though - no, _definitely_ not about Emma.

"I guess it gives you a source of blackmail and a chance to finish your own beer, right?"

"Blackmail for sure, but I was thinking of adjusting my poison," he explained, holding up an unopened bottle of rum. "Care to join me?"

"I don't know, mate," Killian countered, laughing and digging at the label on his beer. "You know what they say about drinking liquor after beer-"

"That I do, but it's from Emma."

His eyes went wide as he froze in the chair, surprise and confusion paralyzingly him momentarily. He fought to find composure as soon as he noticed the amused smirk on August's face. It definitely wasn't soon enough.

"That was, _uh_...considerate of her-" Killian attempted, his tone a bit unstable as he set his beer down.

"Remembering that _you_ like rum? I thought so too."

August moved back to the chair at his side, placing the rum bottle and two glasses on the table. It was close enough for Killian to catch the brand. _Of course_ , he thought with a grin and a racing pulse. Awful airline alcohol was apparently his calling card.

"So, Killian," August started, the bottle beginning to pour. "How'd you meet Emma?"

 _Shit_ \- had she _told_ him? When he'd literally stumbled into the bar, she'd seemed so insistent on keeping their previous meeting a secret. He had played along, wanting to solve the fear dancing in her green stare so he could focus more on how to keep her eyes adhered to his. There was no _way_ he knew.

"We, _uh_...at the bar. Did Emma say something different?"

" _Ha_! No, of course not," August grinned, handing him a glass. "I mean I _did_ ask, but Emma's a tough nut to crack - so why don't you tell me?"

"I guess I don't follow, mate."

"You both insult me with your denial," he sighed sarcastically, lifting his feet to rest on the table. "The airport, right? Or was it the flight?"

Oh, bloody _hell_. Killian took a rather large sip of the mediocre rum he'd been handed, the familiar burn heavy in his throat. His eyes stared hard at the amber liquid as he tried to piece together how they'd been found out and how he was supposed to address the fact that they had.

"I mean it's just that she was coming _home_ from London-" he continued, eyeing him curiously. "-and you're _from_ London, but you ended up here. The world might be small by some standard, but not _that_ small."

Killian bit his lip a little harder than intended. August had a point - it really wasn't that difficult to connect the dots that outlined this curious relationship he'd started with Emma Swan. In fact, it was a wonder that no one else had put two and two together. Killian peered cautiously at the man he was sharing a drink with. It was pretty easy to see why August had swindled everyone out of a few bucks during the several rounds of poker - he was truly skilled at keeping a straight face.

"We, _uh_...we met in London at the airport," he finally stammered, keeping his eyes focused and honest. "Then again on the airplane-"

"Wait," August cut him off, a disbelieving expression quickly covering his face. "Then _again_ at the bar? Did you know she lived in Storybrooke?"

"I didn't actually," Killian replied, a soft laugh leaving his lips in amusement. "It didn't really come up on the plane so I had no clue where she was headed back to-"

"Until you saw her yesterday," August chuckled, running his hand through his hair. "Wow - are we living in some romantic comedy?"

"Yeah I know," Killian sighed, shaking his head. "Pretty crazy, right?"

"I don't know if I'd call it _crazy_ \- serendipitous maybe though."

Killian straightened at that conclusion, his heart pounding at the idea that this was all meant to happen. So far, Killian had carefully built his beliefs about Emma on a foundation of serendipity. To hear someone else - especially August - recognize it was a bit startling.

"I guess you could say that," Killian offered, attempting nonchalance. "It's a strange coincidence for sure."

"Oh, _please_ ," August disputed, a smile stretching across the width of his face. "How big of a sign do you need, Jones?"

"Well, I don't-"

"Killian," August interrupted, leaning forward on his chair. "This is _insane_. This is the kind of stuff you read about. Things like this don't happen to real people, but it's happening to you with a pretty amazing girl. Why are you fighting it?"

Killian gripped the glass a little tighter, sighing heavily. He didn't _want_ to fight it, but part of him was still teetering on that insecure edge. As much as he wanted to just go for it, what if _she_ didn't want that? What if she didn't want _him_?

"You need to quite overthinking the whole thing," August told him. "Besides, it's pretty obvious that she likes you."

"She... _likes_ me?

"You almost sound surprised," August laughed, swallowing what was left in his glass. "I swear it's like I'm the only person with observation skills in this town. For the record, I think it's good - but I have to wonder about the end game here."

"I'm not...I don't know..."

He hesitated, hoping he hadn't just waltzed into some big brother type of trap. August was friendly enough, but he definitely had Emma's back. Something about that made Killian grateful and perhaps a little happy - even though he was simultaneously _terrified_.

"Calm _down_ , Jones," he laughed, noticing Killian's anxiety. "I'm not about to get out my shotgun. I'm merely curious. Truthfully, Emma doesn't need me to protect her. She's always been good at fighting her own battles."

"Yeah, I've gathered that," Killian laughed, taking a sip from his glass. "Quite the tough lass from what I've seen."

"She is," August confirmed, tilting his head from side to side. "Not as tough as she likes to act though."

"Yeah, I, _uh_ , guess I kinda figured that as well."

He couldn't explain how he was able to see through her facade - maybe because he put up a similar front quite often. To some extent, Emma was fragile and August seemed to appreciate that Killian was aware of that.

"Killian, do you _like_ her?"

There it was - the question he'd been anticipating. He wasn't sure if he should answer it, but he needed to. He _needed_ to say it. He needed to hear it from his own mouth.

"Yes."

"Hmmm," August mulled, tapping the side of his glass. "So what are you still doing here?"

"Well," he said, slightly confused. "I don't...where else would I be?"

"Let's see - it's about 11:50," August explained, silently calculating. "The bar closed at eleven and Emma always stays until about midnight when she closes. If I remember right, she _walked_ to work today."

Killian furrowed his eyebrows as he processed the bartender's words. It didn't take him long to figure out the motive behind the curious conversation.

"Wait - you've been drinking _and_ you rode with Robin, right?"

"Aye," Killian chuckled, setting his glass down. "So it appears as if I'll be walking as well."

"I'd offer to drive you, but you know-" August justified, gesturing toward the bottle. "-although if you take a detour back down Main Street, you _might_ be able to avoid walking alone."

"I suppose I ought to get on my way then," Killian decided, a large grin pulling at the corners of his mouth as he stood. "Do you think she..."

"Killian - _go_ ," he cut him off, lifting a different bottle to the tabletop. "But take this instead. Whatever the hell you've got in that glass is _awful_ stuff. I'm not sure what we were thinking when we put that on the shelf at the bar."

Killian gripped the bottle, turning it over in his hand to check the label. His breath hitched in his throat as the familiar name brought about a flood of memories. It was the first brand he'd ever learned to enjoy - the one his brother introduced him to on his twenty fifth birthday. It was the drink he reserved for happy moments and celebrations, the complete opposite of the cheap moonshine quality stuff he drowned his sorrows in. How could she have known such a thing?

As he pulled on his jacket and saw to it that August would sort out their still rather intoxicated friends, Killian realized that there was much more to these coincidences between him and Emma - _maybe_ much more than he dared to believe. _No harm in finding out_ , he decided silently. He detoured by Robin's truck, tucking the bottle of rum into the cooler in the back. He was going to do this without liquid courage. She deserved that and he _wanted_ that. Killian started up the road with the idea that a walk in the cool night air just might offer some insight - and that made facing the dark street and sobering breeze worth it.

* * *

Running the towel over the bar once more wasn't necessary, but it always seemed like the appropriate thing to do before locking the doors at closing time. Emma didn't shut the place down often, but when she did, the nights were late and filled with menial tasks. She needed that sometimes - the basic work that came with running a small business. It made it feel real. It made her feel like she could tackle all sides of this new venture - bartender and bar _owner_ alike.

Her mind had been on a constant cycle for the majority of the day, drifting back to Killian during any free moment. The evening had been rather droll and Henry stopping in for dinner had been about the only thing that distracted her from thinking about the Irishman who just kept showing up. Her son's company was much appreciated - _well_ , until he decided to bring up the events of the power outage and the man that came along with them.

She wasn't surprised that Henry had taken a shining to Killian. Having a father around wasn't a privilege he'd been offered in life and Emma always knew it was hard for him to have no other male presence around. Robin had helped with that of course, but that was balanced between a relationship with his own son and a new marriage. Killian came without attachments to much and with interests _very_ similar to Henry's. It was pretty easy to see why he was so enthralled with him. Emma could definitely understand the draw - she was just as captivated by this man.

Folding the bar rag and leaving it on the edge of the counter, Emma began to gather her things. She'd barely slung her bag over her shoulder when her phone lit up, the device buzzing as it vibrated on the wood surface of the bar. She furrowed her eyebrows as she squinted at the clock on the far wall - just past midnight. Reaching blindly for her phone, she sighed while trying to figure out who could be calling this late.

Whoa - no _way_. Emma's heart dropped into her stomach as her eyes put the letters of his name together on the screen. It was _Killian_.

She was frozen for a moment, the phone pausing momentarily between each vibrating ring. She didn't know what he could possibly want - she'd almost forgotten he even had her number. Hell, she'd forgotten _she_ had _his_. Emma felt her fingertips tremble as she reached for it, a smile crossing her lips as her eyes lit up with recent memories of the Irishman. This was bound to be interesting.

" _Uh_ , hello?"

Emma kicked herself internally after hearing the way her voice tumbled over itself. Of course his sudden phone call had her a bit rattled, but she didn't know _why_ she insisted on acting like it.

"Swan."

 _God_ , that breathy tone of his voice did things to her.

"Killian," she addressed a little more suavely. "What are you...did you-"

"Do you happen to know what time it is?"

Wait - was he _serious_? Emma rocked on her heels, holding the phone close to her ear while perching her other hand on her hip.

"I'm hoping you're not calling just to ask such a simple question," she started, attempting to sense where he might be going with this. "If so, I might have to doubt your reputation as an intelligent, resourceful author."

"Ah - again with the compliments," he laughed, his voice deep and smooth. "I'm merely wondering if you happen to know what time it is because working this late might merit you as a 'workaholic'."

"I see," she mused, catching onto his game. "Do I even want to know how you know where I am right now?"

"August might have mentioned it," he replied, a smile evident in his answer. "Do you always keep such late hours, love?"

"Running a business takes a bit of sacrifice, Killian," she told him, trying not to let her mind wander about where he might be. "I'm something of a night person anyway though."

"Good to know," he decided. "I guess it's good we have that in common."

"Why would you assume that to be a beneficial thing?"

"Because-" he said, pausing briefly. "-if _I_ wasn't, who would be here to walk you home?"

Emma felt her voice falter, no clever rebuttal forming as she tried to decide if his words were honest. She'd barely allowed herself to hope they were when she heard a faint knock on the front window. Jumping a mile into the air, her eyes jerked to the glass to find the man who just wouldn't stop turning up unexpectedly standing just outside.

He was bundled up in black leather jacket, one that was pulled over a high collared sweater. His hair was a dark mess, long and pushed sideways. His free hand was jammed in his pocket as he held his cellphone up to his ear with that devilish half smile.

"Good _hell_ , Killian. It's past _midnight_ -"

"Exactly," he smirked, tilting his head as she watched him through the glass. "It's Monday right?"

A laugh escaped her throat as she shook her head at his cunning wit. He wasn't wrong - it _was_ Monday and they'd agreed on Monday. _Clever man_ , she thought silently as she bit her lip.

"There's just one problem," she explained, wandering closer to the front. "I don't know how it is back in the land of the lucky and libatious, but in Storybrooke, last call is at eleven."

"Ah I see," he sighed, blowing hot air onto the glass and drawing a smiley face. "I suppose I'd settle for a conversation and a stroll."

This was _dangerous_ \- and not because he was something of a stranger standing outside her bar at midnight. The real hazard was the way he saw right through her. It was like he knew she _wanted_ him there.

"Well - okay," she conceded. "But if you smudge that glass, you'll be cleaning it, Jones."

"You almost sounds like you'd _like_ me to stop by again, love."

"Hmmm - maybe," she said distratctedly. "Let me lock up and I'll be out."

He pulled the phone from his ear with a nod and a victorious smile, one that made her move a little faster. By the time she slipped out the front door, he'd flipped the collar of his jacket up to cover his rather adorable ears from the cold. He looked the strangest combination of handsome and goofy that it was hard _not_ to grin at him.

"Fancy meeting you here, love," he taunted, holding his elbow out for her to link her arm through.

"You as well," she nodded, gripping his arm harder than she should have. "Remind me to limit the information I give August from now on."

"Oh, come _on_ , Swan," Killian sighed, nudging her gently. "I'm sure he just wanted to make sure you wouldn't be out walking alone this late at night. He's only looking out for you, Emma."

Sure he was - and in _more_ ways than one. Emma could almost smell August's ulterior motive and she had to wonder how Killian had won him over so quickly.

"Well then we better pick up the pace," she told him, clinging to his arm. "If I freeze, you won't be able to tell him you succeeded in escorting me home."

"Fair enough," he laughed, pulling her a little closer. "Let's get out of here then."

The bar wasn't far from her house and the conversation they fell into made the walk even faster. He told her all about his night of poker with the locals, his tone light and amused. He'd definitely enjoyed himself and it made Emma happy to know that he felt accepted - even if it was only for those few hours. She personally hoped he could have that for more than just one boys' night. He seemed to _need_ it. She wanted him to have it.

As they turned the corner onto her street, Emma felt a bit of panic flood her body. She could almost swear they both slowed their speed and Emma had to wonder if he was dreading the end of the walk as well. Her mind turned with an idea, one she didn't take time to ponder before she let it slip through her lips.

"Do you...want to come in?"

God, could she sound any more _nervous_? He smirked, his lips curving in a way she was really starting to like.

"I'd love to, Swan," he replied, shivering slightly. "Is your boy here?"

"Camp out in the backyard," she said with a smile. "If I had to guess, he and his friends are probably deep in a junk food coma by now."

"A little cold to be camping out, isn't it?"

"They're rugged _and_ manly teenage boys - they always seem to manage," she mocked, a half smile at the corner of her mouth. "But it _is_ a little cold to stand out here debating with you-"

"Of course I'll come in, Emma," he cut her off with an apologetic yet flirtatious grin. "Assuming you've got a way to warm me up inside?"

" _Very_ smooth, Romeo," Emma teased, allowing him to follow her up the steps. "Alcohol not helping with that anymore huh?"

"The night has been a little sobering I suppose," he replied. "But I think I'm going to prefer whatever your alternate method is regardless."

"Cool it, Jones - I'll make you some hot chocolate."

"As you wish, Swan," he grinned. "I guess I'll take what you're willing to give."

Emma wasn't sure if he realized the meaning behind those words or if he could fully gauge just what she was willing to allow him. She'd been trying to sort _that_ out herself. Maybe having him here would give her some time to do that.

Stepping into the kitchen, Emma opened the cupboard and pulled down two large mugs. She set them on the counter carefully, trying to forget how that surface was the same one he'd kissed her senseless on during the power outage. She shook her head, deciding to prepare their drinks a little faster. She couldn't get distracted - especially when he wasn't even _in_ the room. After a moment, she lifted the mugs carefully and gathered what was left of her composure before heading back to where he was _hopefully_ waiting patiently.

"Are you _always_ such a snoop?"

He glanced quickly at her from the corner bookcase he'd been examining to give her a grin that was full of admiration. Emma held her hot mug firmly as she moved slowly into the room, perching on the edge of the couch as his studious eyes alternated between her and the titles of the novels stored on shelf. She had to wonder what her choice in literature was currently saying about her. If anyone could read into such evidence, it was definitely the mysteriously handsome author standing in her living room.

"Not _always_ ," he retorted with a sly wink, taking the hot chocolate she held out to him. "But my view was limited during the blackout, love. Call it making up for lost ground."

"Ah, I see," Emma laughed, cocking her head to the side curiously. "What exactly are you hoping to catch a glimpse of?"

"Just a bit of intel, Swan. Trying to find out what you might be interested in and...well, _well_ -" he grinned, his steaming mug in one hand and the book she'd located at the library in his other. "-what do we have here, Swan?"

 _Dammit_ , Emma thought with horrified eyes. His smirk was adorably smug as he peered from the book's cover back to her. With more than a slight redness on her cheeks, she reached to pluck it from his hands. Their game set firmly back into motion as he pulled it just out of her grasp, a chuckle leaving his throat as he did so.

"I'd think you'd recognize your own novel, _Killian_."

"Aye - I definitely do," he smiled, raising an eyebrow at her. "Just curious about how _and_ why you've acquired it. I'm going to wager you didn't have it in your possession before journeying to England."

"It's not _my_ fault that your particular genre isn't usually my preference," she retorted, narrowing her eyes flirtatiously. "As for the 'how', we do have a have one of those buildings called libraries in town, Killian."

"I see," he nodded, regarding her with far too blue eyes. "What about the 'why' part of that inquiry?"

Emma pursed her lips. Their little rounds of questioning on the plane were testament to what he clearly already knew. She was _interested_ in him - she just didn't know how or to what extent quite yet.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"So you were curious," he gathered, tilting his head in analysis. "I suppose I am as well regarding your thoughts."

"Fishing for compliments, Jones?"

"Only if they're genuine ones," he said, a half smile turning up his cheek. "I suppose I'm asking because I can sense that honesty is something you're rather adept at."

She caught the quick flash of vulnerability in his gaze, almost as if he needed her honesty more than he needed the ego boost. Emma tried to decide how to give him what he was asking for in simple words - even though she wanted to _praise_ him for much of what she'd read thus far. He was a beautiful, talented, _amazing_ writer. The story that followed his skill was one she wanted to know and begin to understand.

"Hmmm," she hummed softly. "Off the record?"

"Aye," he agreed, his focus becoming even deeper as he moved to sit next to her. "Off the record."

Emma didn't know how fair she should play this. Honesty was and had always been her forte, but in this case, the truth was causing her to stall. She tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear and took a sip of her hot chocolate, considering him and the inquiring words he'd offered. _Screw it,_ she thought finally. He should know.

"It's wonderful, Killian," she admitted, a half smile hanging at the corner of her mouth. "It's like...one of those books you read and you gain this deeper understanding of some aspect of life. Then later on, you read it again and you gather a whole new and maybe even opposite meaning than the one you had before. It's one of those books that changes you."

His eyes were set hard on hers, the smoldering blue fixed on the explanation leaving her mouth. Emma tried to ignore the way his lips twitched with the beginning of a smile - and a very honest, flattered, maybe even embarrassed smile at that.

"It's a lifelong read I guess," she concluded, sipping her tea again. "From what I've seen so far."

"I see," he said softly, scratching at the stubble on his chin. "So the book...you could almost say you can get what you need depending on _when_ you read it? Reliable in some way, yeah?"

"Uh, yeah," Emma said shyly. "Off the record."

"Of course," he laughed, winking knowingly. "Completely off the record."

"Can I ask about one thing though?"

"Aye," he replied, arching an eyebrow. "What would you like to know?"

"About the Colin in the book-" she started, swallowing hard before speaking. "-is he ever found?"

"Hmmm," he pondered, his lips twitching upward as he stared down into the mug. "I guess you'll have to keep reading to find out."

"I suppose I will," Emma sighed after a moment, offering him a playful glance. "I'd hate to leave a book half read."

"Wow - halfway through already? It sounds as if finishing it won't be too difficult for you at all, love."

"Yeah, yeah," she mumbled, rolling her eyes. "I guess I'll just have to suck it up and do it, won't I?"

"I appreciate you being so happy to oblige," he grinned, that Irish charm strong in his flirty tone. "Maybe I'll have to bring you your own copy when I come back from London."

The offer hung in the air as Killian bit his lip. His expression grew slightly insecure yet still expectant. He seemed to be waiting for her reaction to his possible return. Emma felt her heart pound as she summoned her bravery and the words needed for the impending conversation.

" _Are_ you coming back, Killian?"

"Do you _want_ me to, Emma?"

God, the way his accent grasped her name never ceased to make her senses tingle and her heart thump. The question was one she'd been dodging in her mind for days, but as she felt herself begin to drown in the blue of his halting stare, Emma realized she didn't want to hide anymore.

"Yes."

"Hmmm," he said, his voice shocked and quiet. "Well - then...perhaps I should."

"You... _should_?"

"No," he decided, shaking his head and reaching carefully for her hand. "I _will_."

"But you shouldn't have to come back just because of me-"

"Actually I'd be coming back for _me_ ," he cut her off, his smile honest and persistent. "But if you happen to fall within the lines of that fortune as well then so be it."

"It's flattering to hear you consider me as being so lucky," Emma taunted, her fingertips dancing over his knuckles. "You'd really want to come back here though? I mean, it's just Storybrooke-"

"Emma, it's not Storybrooke I'd be returning to," he explained, lifting a hand to her cheek. "It's... _you_. I'd love to come back if it meant seeing _you_."

"Making a plan to run into me intentionally doesn't sound like you," she blushed, absorbing his touch. "I'm worried I might not recognize you in a predictable context."

"Well, you'll never know if you don't give it a chance," Killian offered, his skin warm against hers. "In fact, we should test that idea. Step out with me for a bit, love."

"Step _out_ with you? What is this - the 1940's?"

"Nah," he laughed with a faint blush on his cheeks. "Honestly if it was, this might be easier."

"Easier," Emma repeated, raising an eyebrow. "In a time of war? The Manhattan Project? The invention of the _bikini_? It really doesn't sound like an easy time for the male population."

"I meant asking a woman out on a date," Killian retorted, narrowing his glance playfully. "It was much simpler to be forward and go after what you want back then. No need for the smoke screen in that era. It would appear that _you're_ the history buff here though so perhaps I'm speaking out of turn."

"True, but you've told me more than once that you pride yourself on pure honesty," she replied, unable to resist teasing him. "So is this you being _blunt_?"

"Well...no - but _this_ is," he said after a moment, toying with her fingers as his eyes locked on hers. "You _intrigue_ me, Emma Swan. You fascinate _and_ frustrate me to equally ridiculous ends and I've never been so completely bewitched by someone as I am with you. There's something about you, Swan - and I can't...seem to shake the idea that there might be something here. I don't know what, but I'd like to...I need to know if I'm correct. I'm guess I'm hoping you might have a similar curiosity."

"It almost sounds like you're asking me to take a chance," she said curiously. "A rather _big_ one."

"I guess I am," he said, stroking her cheek. "Go to the Founder's Day celebration with me."

"The little festival at the docks?"

"I guess? I don't know much about it I'm afraid," he laughed, shrugging slightly. "But I do know I'd like to attend it with you. If you're open to the idea?"

He looked so adorably hopeful that it was hard to think of any reason to say no - _not_ that she wanted to. It was almost scary how much she _wanted_ to spend time with him.

"Okay," she agreed, trying to contain her smile. "Are you sure you're ready to learn all about small town tradition?"

He leaned forward unexpectedly, moving at a slow pace but with obvious intention. The warmth of his lips on hers was surprising, but it didn't take long for Emma to melt into the manner in which he kissed her. Killian's hand tenderly held her jaw, his fingertips caressing her cheek as his mouth moved against hers. _Damn_ , the man could kiss. She'd be lying if she said that knowledge hadn't made her mind wander more than once or twice.

"Aye," he said softly, pulling back and blinking lazily. "I think there's a great deal I could learn from _you_ , Swan."

Emma's heart tumbled in her chest at his bold reply, trying to fight back the ideas that came along with his teasing words. What the _hell_ could he have possibly meant by _that_? Killian pulled her close again, their lips fusing once more in a way that told Emma she'd find out exactly what he was talking about soon enough. She could only hope that 'soon enough' would come in the form of the date she'd just agreed to.


	9. Chapter 9

**I cannot even begin to explain the war I went through with my muse to finish this chapter, but I will spare you the gory details :] anyway, here it is! I own nothing. All rights, characters, and my soul belong to OUAT.**

* * *

Killian's feet came to a heavy halt as he turned the corner that led back up the street to Robin and Regina's house. The morning air was crisp and promising, the sound of seagulls audible as he lowered the volume on his iPod and pulled his earbuds from his ears. His breath was slightly ragged as he started to stretch his legs, his morning run causing a slight ache in his bones. It was a familiar burn, one he had been hoping might take his mind _and_ his nerves off the upcoming evening. He couldn't explain why, but bloody _hell_ he was nervous.

It was only a few hours and roughly three miles since he'd seen her, but Killian could think of nothing but Emma Swan. A soft smile crossed his lips as he realized that he didn't have an issue with the train of thought his mind had chosen.

His pace slowed as he tried to catch his breath while moving up the block. He ventilated hard as his brain wandered back to the previous night...or perhaps it was 'morning'. The memories had been tumbling for hours now - the rum, the phone call, the way she clung to his arm when while walked back to her house. It had been more than just pleasant - _sweet_ even. He would have gladly accepted it for just that, but somehow, he'd gotten _more_. He caressed his bottom lip with his teeth as he remembered how he'd teased her about her choice in reading and how she'd countered with the most genuine, thoughtful book review he'd ever received.

She'd called it a reliable read - a way to get what you felt like you needed at a particular juncture in life. Her words had sounded somewhat ironic since that was almost _exactly_ how he was feeling about her.

On top of all of it, there had been another kiss - one she'd accepted quickly and in perhaps even a bit of a needy fashion. The thought made him grin as he tried to stow away the knowledge of just how much he wanted to do it _again_. The moment his lips hit hers, Killian felt that honest change. She was knocking down a wall for him. She was letting him _in_. He could _not_ screw this up. He couldn't disappoint her.

He couldn't _leave_ her.

His eyebrows furrowed at that, prompting him to run a hand through his damp hair. He'd been trying to avoid this. He didn't want to entertain the idea of finding himself back up in the air - especially if it was on a flight away from the woman he was so mesmerized by.

Gold hadn't been in touch since his rather unwelcome visit at the airport and Killian had been so busy with the idea of possibly finding a shred or two of happiness that he hadn't bothered to touch base with him. It was infuriating really - that man had always had this desire to puppeteer Killian for his own benefit and little else. Selling the book had made Killian a slave to that life and as much as he loved writing, the constant pursuit of pleasing the higher ups was getting old. As he plodded up the front steps of his friend's elaborate manor, his mind reeled with a curious speculation.

Maybe there was a way out of it. Maybe there was a way to break _free_. Maybe there was even a way for him to stay in Storybrooke. It was an idea he wanted to explore and _soon_ , but today, he had other plans. Today was about his reason to stay - and _that_ was something he was ready to learn more about.

He staggered into the kitchen, checking the time and noticing he had a few hours to kill. The fridge held a small stock of bottled water and he opened the door to reach for one as he pondered how to go about his free time.

"Good run, Killian?"

He dropped the plastic bottle to the wood floor with a startled flinch, turning to face the voice rapidly. Of _course_ Regina would choose that moment to drop in. This he hadn't been expecting at _all_.

"Uh, yeah," he stuttered, fumbling for the bottle on the ground. "It's a nice morning."

"It is," she smiled coyly, placing a brown paper grocery bag on the counter top. "One that started somehwhat early for someone who has been getting _pretty_ good at sleeping off a hangover."

 _Dammit_ , he thought. He wasn't prepared to banter with this woman. Past experience had taught him that Regina reigned queen over most conversations. Putting up a fight against her decisive tone was _never_ something he enjoyed doing.

"Yeah I guess I'm trying to kick that cycle," he said cautiously. "I had a little extra energy so I figured a jog might be a suitable change of pace."

"Seems like it," she smiled, a bit out of character for a woman who had never been his biggest fan. "Hey, uh, I wanted to tell you...Henry said you helped him and Emma out during the power outage a few nights ago. Thank you for that."

"Oh, _uh_ \- sure. It's not a big deal."

"Are you certain it's not?"

Killian toyed with the cap of his water bottle, trying to figure out what she could be playing at. Regina never said much to him and this trip hadn't been different - well, not until _this_ moment anyway. She clearly had something up her sleeve and it was unsettling yet intriguing in the strangest way. _Something_ had caused her to take an interest in his recent actions and he began to battle against whatever that 'something' might be.

"I meant with Henry," she clarified quickly, tugging the fridge door open. "Because that _is_ a big deal to me."

 _Oh dammit_ , he thought as the color drained from his face. There wasn't a foolproof method that could prepare a person for the wrath he was about to encounter.

"It's just...thank you for being so good with him," Regina said with a slight smirk, obviously picking up on his unnecessary anxiety. "He likes you - and as much as Robin is a great father figure to him, Henry seems to have quite the interest in building a bond with you."

Killian felt his shoulders lift with the slightest bit of pride. Something about Henry wanting to spend time with him was flattering in a way he didn't know he needed. The boy was so much like him - observant, a little lost, in love with the worlds found between pages. It was hard _not_ to hope that Henry might take a liking to him. The smallest sliver of confidence slipped back into his head and he tried to reign it in, still not sure if Regina was totally on his side or not.

" _Just_...be careful, okay?"

He froze a moment, arching at eyebrow at her rather abrupt request. The course of 'careful' could follow many different paths and he couldn't help but wonder which one she was eluding to.

"Henry's a good kid," he offered in return. "I wouldn't do anything to let him down, Regina."

"I know that," she nodded, reaching into the bag to begin unloading what she'd purchased. "But I'm not _just_ referring to Henry here."

Ah, _there_ it was. She knew about Emma. Killian's heart raced as he wondered just how _that_ conversation had come up - yeah, the one she'd _obviously_ had with her son. The two women had the fifteen year old kid in common so the circumstances of such a chat weren't too unrealistic. It made him a bit curious as to why Henry had chosen to mention anything to Regina - and _more_ so, if this meant the boy was in his corner in regards to Emma.

"Yeah, I...I know," he nodded, tilting his head as he watched her sort through the items. "I'm well aware of what's at stake. I don't plan on putting anyone in harm's way, Regina."

"Just make sure _you_ are included in that list of those to protect," she said after a moment, her kindness evident as she rifled through a bag of fruit. "It's been nice to see you happy considering the initial reason for your visit - and I think you deserve that happiness, Killian."

He was still trying to piece together this new picture of Regina as someone who cared for his well being when she made her encouraging declaration. Killian tried to avoid appearing too flabbergasted, but this wasn't something he imagined would _ever_ happen let alone on this trip. Offering her an awkward smile was all he could think to do.

"Alright, _that_ being said," Regina continued, holding out a shiny red apple to him. "Have fun on your date tonight."

"Hmmm," he mused, taking the fruit with gratitude. "You know about that then?"

"Yeah," she laughed as she began placing items in the cupboards. "You're going to the festivities down by the docks, right?"

"Aye - around seven I believe," Killian explained, placing the apple on the counter for a moment. "You and Robin are attending as well, right?"

"Of course," she nodded, finishing her unpacking process. "I'm actually headed down there now to see to it that there's no disasters impending. Henry will be there tonight too so hopefully we'll all run into one another."

"Yeah, that would be nice," he returned, peeling the sticker off the apple. "I'd love to get some more book recommendations from him."

"I'm sure he's got some to give," Regina replied, tilting her head toward the fruit he was pondering. "You know you _can_ eat that, right? It's not poisoned or anything."

"You'll have to forgive my skepticism," he chuckled, offering her an apologetic glance. "The past has taught me to be cautious during these...exchanges."

"I know we don't exactly have most positive track record, Killian," Regina said honestly. "But maybe a fresh start is in order?"

Killian tapped the countertop with his fingers, tilting his head at her decision. He wasn't sure why Regina had this sudden interest in mending this odd assortment of fences they'd constructed, but he wasn't totally opposed to giving it a shot. His life was currently being rebuilt on second chances and the hope that came along with them. This would definitely be a fair one to add to his prospects.

"I'd like that," he nodded, smiling at this new possibility.

"Great," she grinned in return. "So in the spirit of ceasefire, I thought I'd mention that the flower shop downtown closes early today - around four due to the Founder's Day celebration."

"How did you...oh - I, _uh_ ," he stuttered, realization filling his features. "Thank you."

"Sure," Regina replied, grabbing her keys from the hook by the door. "Oh and Killian?"

"Hmmm?"

"Good luck," she smiled, pulling the door open. " _Not_ that you seem to need it with her."

Killian's mouth hung open for a moment, surprise on his face as the door shut behind her. He tried to fight the corners of his mouth as they turned up in a knowing grin, but it was rather fruitless. Shaking his head, Killian headed up the stairs for a shower and some time to ponder whatever the _hell_ had just happened.

* * *

"What _are_ you wearing?"

Emma raised a questioning eyebrow at her curious friend, holding her arms out as she peered downward. Her clothes were the typical t-shirt and jeans, an outfit that was rather standard for a work day. She'd slipped into the bar somewhat early for someone whose mind had been reeling until the wee hours of the morning. Thinking about Killian had consumed her every spare moment since she'd tumbled out of her sleepless bed, a fact that had left her little time for pondering date apparel. Yes, clothes for her _date_ \- the one with Killian Jones. That was...it was _really_ happening.

"Well," Emma sighed, flipping a cocktail umbrella open. "I _do_ still have to work, Rubes. Besides, I don't think-"

"Emma Swan, you are _not_ going to be promoting your bar-" Ruby emphasized, sipping her drink. "-while you're on a date with a guy I _know_ you like."

"Ruby, I don't even..."

Her words hung uselessly in the air as she fought the smile threatening her lips. She grabbed a rag from the opposite side of the counter while avoiding Ruby's analytical stare. Emma didn't need her friend's eyes bearing down on the feelings she wasn't sure she even _wanted_ to have - but the truth was that she could feel it with every inch of her closed off heart.

She was falling for him. She was falling _hard_.

"Look, Em! You can wear _this_."

She flipped her phone around, drawing Emma's attention to the screen - the one holding a picture of a rather risque red dress. Emma narrowed her eyes as she analyzed the photo.

"So," she said, raising an eyebrow. "That's...it?"

"What do you mean 'that's it'?"

"Well," Emma continued, squinting at the phone. "Where's the rest of it?"

"This...is the rest of it."

Emma gave her a slightly judgmental glare and Ruby scoffed, rolling her eyes as she dropped the device to the counter. She tried not to laugh at her friend's exasperation while polishing a stray glass. In all honesty, Ruby had been more excited about the prospect of dressing Emma up for the date than she was about the date itself. She'd been going on about it since she strolled in shortly after opening, her plan to interrogate Emma on her prospects for date apparel quickly set into motion. Listening to Ruby run down the most recent fashion trends was a sound Emma was quickly learning to drown out.

Emma's mind turned over itself as she realized it probably wouldn't matter what she wore - it was highly likely he'd still look at her like he always did. There was something about the Killian Jones stare and the way it was cause for total destruction. Emma could only hope that weak knees wouldn't become part of her outfit for the evening.

"That's it," Ruby declared, downing what was left of her drink. "We're going shopping."

"Shopping? Rubes, I'm working-"

She'd barely begun to refute her friend's idea when the front door of the bar swung open wide and in blazed a hurried, frantic, heaving for breath version of August. Emma raised her eyebrows at him, folding her arms casually as she awaited an explanation that definitely had to be interesting.

"I got here as fast as I could," he huffed, his eyes darting from Ruby to Emma and back again. "What's the emergency?"

Emma's head tilted in confusion as her eyes rolled to Ruby. The smirk on her friend's face was pretty self explanatory - _ah_ , an emergency. A _shopping_ emergency. _Dammit Ruby_ , Emma thought silently as she shook her head.

"For the record," Ruby started, slinging her purse over her shoulder. "You made _pretty_ good time, Auggie. I'm impressed."

His mouth dropped open in a rather perplexed fashion as Ruby kissed his cheek. He smiled at her with sudden enlightenment, that clever glint in his eye coming to life as he tried to decide which way he wanted to go about his brotherly taunting.

"You really ought to teach your girlfriend the meaning of dire circumstances," Emma almost groaned, uncapping a few bottles for some lunchtime regulars. "Maybe she needs some _experience_ with such a thing."

"I think we both know what a fruitless task that would be," August teased, his tongue in his cheek as he smirked at her. "Hearing about the torture you encounter on a shopping trip with her though - now _that's_ something that would benefit me for sure."

Emma groaned as she reached for her wallet under the counter. There was obviously no way she was getting out of this. August's expression was still enveloped in that stupid grin by the time she turned to face the door and her fate in the form of Ruby Lucas's fashion expertise. He laughed at her annoyed disposition, a response that caused Emma to toss the bar rag at him before heading toward the door.

"Come on - let's get this over with," Emma whined before looking back toward August. "Oh and _you_ \- if anyone asks, I'm out running _work_ errands."

"So you're asking me to lie, Em? Did you learn _nothing_ from Pinocchio?"

"Not asking, Booth - I'm telling you to keep the occurrence of this little outing to yourself," Emma said, narrowing her eyes in retort. "Or you might get a chance to see what an _actual_ emergency looks like."

The idle words invoked a hearty chuckle from him and Emma rolled her gaze dramatically as she took the remaining steps to vacate the bar. An afternoon of price tags and pondering seemed slightly hazardous, but there was _no_ way Ruby would be swayed. Fiercely determined was the only way to describe her friend in situations such as this one.

"Wait - is that a threat, Em? Like should I be scared?"

August's words taunted her with a humorous nature and Emma shook her head with a slight smile. Ruby caught her slight show of happiness and Emma kicked herself internally. _That_ wasn't how this was supposed to go at all.

"Alright, Em," Ruby started, a grin slowly painting her lips. "I think it's time we go paint the town. Maybe in red - a _bright_ red."

 _Of course_ , Emma sighed quietly as she slipped into the front seat of Ruby's car. She didn't have to be overly observant to know how that specific color was about to be the source of her dragging day. She could only hope it would be worth it.

* * *

The peculiar events and overall blur of the morning landed Killian back in the familiar activity of walking and pondering within less than an hour. He'd showered fast and dressed casually, eager to make his way downtown before the town entered full celebration mode. He was rounding the turn that would lead him down main street and toying with the rolled up the sleeves of his plaid shirt when his phone rang. It could only be one person - the man he'd sent an inquiring text to only minutes earlier.

"Morning, Locksley," he said nonchalantly, hoping to avoid being found out. "Didn't expect you to get back to me so fast."

"I know how to use a phone, _mate_ \- plus, a vague text message served well to gather my attention, Jones," Robin shot back, the sound of his employees chattering in the distance. "What's got you out and about today?"

"I thought I made that rather clear," Killian responded with a sigh. "Is the flower shop down the street just past the diner then or do I need to tell your lovely wife that her sense of direction is _sorely_ off point?"

"Yeah that's right," Robin explained, his voice curious on the other end of the line. "Do I want to know why you're asking?"

Killian hadn't told Robin about Emma - _well_ , not the important details anyway. He knew that the recent town wide blackout had stranded them all for a few hours together, but Killian hadn't offered up the facts at all. The facts were still rather up in the air, but there was at least a few that were fairly solid.

He liked...wait, no - he _wanted_ her. He was falling for her.

He was going to come back for her - _and_ for himself. He just had to figure out the specifics first.

"Nothing you need to be concerned about," he finally said, picking up his pace a bit. "It's just a simple errand for-"

His words were cut short as he walked right into something unexpected - well, _someone_. As an assortment of books hit the sidewalk and a pair of startled eyes met his, Killian internally kicked himself. He was spending an awful lot of time in the span of a few days trying to redefine the word 'clumsy'.

"Bloody hell - Rob, I gotta go," Killian said quickly, ignoring his friend's pleading opposition on the other end of the line. "I'm sorry, lass. I didn't see you there-"

The woman he'd stumbled into this time wasn't Emma, but she did seem just as surprised at the run-in. With an accent that rivaled his own, she brushed off his insistent apology with an anxious wave of her hand and an explanation that made him smirk.

"Oh, no - _I'm_ sorry," she said, her gaze kind as she bent to pick up the shambles of literature now on the sidewalk. "Slightly overambitious on my part to think I could carry such a big stack all at once, but I was going for efficiency."

He immediately took note of her quirky, happy spirit as she gathered the mess while simultaneously sweeping her carefully curled hair from her eyes. Killian followed suit, leaning next to her to repair the damaged he'd caused. She looked up at him, her stare a light color as she laughed at the mishap.

Well, _that_ was a good sign at least.

"Truly though - apologies," he stuttered. "I should be more careful. Here's...these."

The girl smirked at his incoherent attempt at righting the wrong. He handed her a few of the books near his feet with an embarrassed blush, something she seemed to find endearing.

"Accidents happen," she assured him, waving off the apology. "Tall stacks make for big tumbles I suppose. Hazard of the job, right?"

"Oh...you're the-" Killian deduced, glancing up at the clock tower. "-librarian?"

"I am - I'm Belle," she told him, adjusting her hold on the books. "You'll, _uh_...have to excuse me-"

Killian chuckled at the way she was trying so hard to manage the wealth of literature in her grip. He reached for several of the bigger novels in hopes that it would sufficiently lighten the load. Her eyes were grateful as she sighed in relief, the small disaster averted. Crisis management wasn't something he'd been adept at assisting in lately, but the turning of the tide was all too welcome.

"Here - I got it," he smiled, steadying the stack and pulling open the door to the building. "Go ahead, lass."

She continued her thankful expression, one that was quickly making him feel like he hadn't terribly inconvenienced her. In fact, she almost seemed glad to have such an odd encounter. There was something so wonderfully strange about this town - something that was starting to make it feel right.

"Okay - wait... _dammit_ ," Belle stuttered, trying to catch the text falling from the top of her tower of novels. "Ugh, it figures that _this_ book would be the one trying to run off. Holden Caulfield never did like to conform."

He'd followed her quick enough to grasp the collection of pages before it hit the floor, his hand reaching out swiftly. Feeling the smooth cover of the text in his hand was familiar and so was her reference. A smirk landed on his lips as he gazed down at the title he knew almost too well - _Catcher In The Rye_.

"Quite the picture of discontent-" Killian mused, turning the book over to examine the cover with a smile. "-isn't he?"

"To say the least," Belle laughed. "But I've always liked him anyway."

"Yeah," he said softly, his fingertips tracing the letters of the book title. "Me too."

"You aren't from around here, are you?"

"Oh, uh - no," Killian replied, blushing slightly at how quickly he'd been found out. "That obvious, huh?"

"Well, it's a small town," she explained, sorting the books into piles. "You tend to get used to familiar faces I guess. Are you visiting?"

"Yeah - just for the week," he cringed, hating the reminder of his timeline. "I'm Killian."

"Killian," she repeated, her eyes wide once she finally assembled the pieces in her head. "Oh my _god_ \- you're Killian Jones!"

"Uh, yeah," he laughed, a half smile starting at the corner of his mouth. "I take it you don't just work with books, but you also enjoy reading them?"

"Yeah, yeah, I... _uh_ , I try to find time for it," she stuttered, almost appearing to be some sort of starstruck. "Sorry, I just...it's not everyday that you run into a best selling author."

"Or rather that one runs _into_ you," he countered, poking a little fun at his inattentive mishap. "But the pleasure's all mine. It's a beautiful building you have here - I almost wish I would have brought some work along. Seems like a good place to brainstorm."

"Yeah it stays pretty quiet," she told him, smiling at his conclusion. "Best place to do homework in my opinion."

"Homework?"

"Oh - yeah, I'm just finishing up some extra college courses for law school," Belle clarified, turning on the computer nearby. "But there's others who stop in to study as well - especially in the afternoons. In fact-"

Her explanation was cut short by the bell dinging by the front door, its sound announcing a visitor. Belle's expression grew expectant and Killian turned on his heel to see if he could figure out why.

"Oh, Killian - hey!"

With a backpack slung over his shoulder, he stood there with a pleasantly surprised face and that head of shaggy brown hair. It was Henry - and Killian had to appreciate the way the boy had swapped roles with his mother. It was rather fortunate he'd come across the boy unexpectedly instead of Emma this time. There was no telling what meeting up with her spontaneously on this particular day would have done to his frame of mind.

"Henry - good to see you, lad," he offered in response, a genuine happiness at seeing the kid evident in his attitude.

"The library seems like an obvious place for a writer I guess," Henry quipped, pulling some books from his bag. "Are you here on business?"

"Oh, no," he shook his head, laughing slightly as he set the book he'd been reminiscing back on the stack. "Just stopping by. I was actually about to-"

"Belle, did you know that Killian writes books?

The stride Killian had almost begun toward the exit was paused mid step as Belle gave him a knowing look that went right alongside Henry's casual one. There obviously wasn't any way he could leave just yet.

"I did actually," she nodded, typing a few keys on the computer. "In fact, I'm fairly sure we have a copy of his book here, _but_...yep it's currently checked out."

She glanced up at Killian, each of them hiding a grin - the one that proved they both had the knowledge about who'd borrowed the novel from the library recently. He should have been nervous that this girl was putting him and Emma together so quickly, but he wasn't. Something about her was trustworthy.

"Well, that's a good thing, right?"

"I suppose so," Killian smiled, rocking back and forth on his heels. "So are you in the market for something new to read?"

"Yeah, just finished these," he nodded, pulling three hardcover books from his backpack. "Trying to decide what to go for next."

Killian held out a tentative hand and Henry offered him the small stack, clearly flattered that an actual author was so interested in his literature choices. He thumbed the covers carefully, taking note of the similarities rather quickly. The boy clearly had an interest in legend - and this time it was Arthurian in genre.

"Camelot, huh?"

"Yeah it's interesting," Henry replied, a shrug lifting his shoulders. "Do you know much about it?"

"A little," Killian nodded, looking toward Belle for permission. "Have you read any T.H. White?"

"Not yet," Henry answered. "That's they guy who wrote The Once and Future King, right? Do you maybe think you could, _uh_...help me find it?"

Killian's gaze hinged on Belle's until she gave him a subtle nod and an appreciative smile. He felt his pride rise slightly at the idea of Henry trusting his recommendation and he had to wonder if Belle knew why. Something told him she more than just knew - she _understood_ somehow.

"Sure, lad," he agreed, tilting his head toward the shelves with a wink. "For 'a king can only work with his best tools'...or something like that."

Henry smirked, a look Killian recognized to be one much like his own. The fact that they shared this odd bond through books was something he never expected, but now that he'd recognized it, he wanted to hang onto it. He wanted to _expand_ on it. Fortunately, they were in the proper place to do so.

The next hour flowed like ink on a page as Killian moved between the bookshelves, narrating his knowledge of knights and folklore to Henry. It was strange the way his memory began to swell with information he wasn't even sure he knew. The easy conversation allowed it all to fall back into place - the reasons he initially came to love reading, a recollection of sharing books with his brother back in Ireland, and even an honest mention or two of one of his favorites. Henry had even picked out a book with his own recommendation - one about tall tales on the high seas that Killian willingly accepted. In fact, he was rather anxious to dive into it. Checking the time on a nearby wall clock, he realized he might have an hour or two to do just that. Well, maybe after his delayed errand.

"So why are you hanging on to that one?"

Henry pointed to the book Killian had left behind on circulation desk when they'd embarked on their quest for some new sagas - the novels Henry now held confirming that they'd found a few. He followed the path of the boy's pointing to where the book he's so unexpectedly encountered was laying. It was cased in leather with the title sunken familiarly into the well worn cover. It was a thin story, but it still held the promise of a literary classic. Killian felt his mind tumble back over itself as he remembered the day his older brother had loaned it to him - it was the first of many lends. His heart was heavy with the recollection as he flipped through a few pages. _God_ , he loved that story. He'd always love the words bound there.

"Oh, yeah - _that_ ," Belle said from across the desk, looking up from a rather large textbook. "I wasn't sure if you were interested in that one. Seemed like you might be."

Killian raised an eyebrow at her, trying to convey just how impressed he was hat she could read him so easily. It made sense honestly - she _was_ the librarian after all. He tried to hide his smirk as his eyes landed back on the text, the fragments of a familiar line finding its way into his memory. _Kings_ , he mused. Yeah, it was something about kings.

"I can check it out for you if you'd like," Henry offered, setting his own stack of reading on the counter. "Then you'll have it to read while you're in town."

He smiled carefully at the boy's kindness, considering his next move carefully. He'd made some sort of conscious albeit silent goal to do a bit of reading while he was piecing his life back together in this sleepy little town. It was bold to consider it, but a large part of Killian wanted to think that this reassembling wouldn't just take place in Storybrooke - it would _include_ it. Maybe library books could be a part of that too.

"Actually," he began tentatively, a hopeful expression on his face. "I was hoping maybe I could check it out _myself_ \- however your system works, lass."

"Oh - okay," Belle grinned happily, typing something on the computer. "Let's get you all set up then."

Killian tried not to beam with flattery at the excitement he was sure he saw in Henry's surprised stare. They shared a friendly smile, one that meant much more than Killian knew it ever could. It was the strangest thing to take pride in, but as Belle slipped him a laminated library card, he felt his shoulders lift and his lips curve into that confident grin.

"Here," Henry said, a helpful tone taking over as he handed him a bookmark. "You might need this. It doesn't look like too long of a book, but you never know, right?"

The boy grinned as Killian took it, turning back to Belle to take care of his own borrowings. Feeling the corners of the thick pages beneath his touch, an idea drifted into his head. He flipped through, trying to recall the chapter he was looking for. It didn't take long to locate it. His bravery took a second longer, but eventually, a deep breath coaxed him forward.

"Hey," he said cautiously, looking to Belle. "Do you have a pen I could borrow?"

She pursed her lips in curiosity, handing one to him and watching as he flipped bookmark over. He knew they were watching him as he wrote, but he couldn't miss the opportunity. Emma seemed to like the author side of him - _maybe_ it was time he used literary wit to his advantage.

"So, Henry," he started, tucking the bookmark between the pages and clicking the pen. "Do you think you could do something for me?"

* * *

A red knee length sundress and butterflies with huge wings fluttering in her stomach had led her to this very unexpected moment. She twisted her hair into a casual braid, putting on a pair of criss crossed sandals as she tried to talk her nerves into submission. It was an endless wonder that this man she barely knew had her so interested - so completely _perplexed_ \- but god, he _did_.

Emma was still trying to connect the dots explaining just how a round trip airline ticket, a slip with spilled coffee, and the deep blue eyes of Killian Jones had roped her into this. She wasn't one for the dating game and her closed off heart had become something she preferred over monotonous meetings with potential suitors. Emma didn't buy into much and the little that she did _didn't_ include romance.

In fact, she hadn't even had a real date since - no. _Not tonight_ , she silently pleaded with her memories. Tonight was about something new. Tonight was about something that _might_ even be real. Maybe - _maybe_ if he came back.

As she began the familiar search for her keys, her eyes landed on the book Henry had dropped off for her a couple hours earlier - the one he'd mentioned came by Killian's recommend. She had done her best at acting unaffected, but she'd yanked it back into view the moment he left.

Her fingers pressed against the embossed cover of the text as she contemplated his choice. _Catcher In The Rye_. She'd read it - well, _skimmed_ it - years ago when it had been required to pass some high school English class. She didn't know what he meant by it until she spotted the bookmark sticking out at the top. She flipped the cover back once more to the marked page, quickly zeroing in on Salinger's words that made far too much sense.

 _You used to play what?_

 _Checkers._

 _Checkers?_

 _Yeah. She wouldn't move any of her kings. Whenever she'd get one, she wouldn't move it. She's just leave it in the back row. She'd get them all lined up and then she'd never use them. She just liked the way they looked when they were all in the back row._

There it was again - the uncanny proof that he could see right through her walls and straight into what was left of her faith. He was right though. Since she'd found Henry and the little world she didn't know she wanted in Storybrooke, her advantages over life's sometimes tumultuous path had been abundant. She skipped through obstacles with grace she hardly recognized, landing herself in a position where taking a risk was the next step to success - and to happiness.

So why didn't she ever take that leap of faith? Flipping the bookmark over for the thousandth time, she was met with the curves of his elegant penmanship.

 ** _Just in case you're ready for a new book. See you tonight, love. Bring your A-game._**

Truth be told, Killian Jones was the only person who'd inquired about her walls without encouraging her to rip them down - without telling her what she should do. Maybe there was something to be said about that sort of genuine. Maybe he really just wanted to understand her.

A patterned knock at the front door caused the reflection staring back at her in the floor length mirror to flinch in surprise. Her eyes moved to stare at the barrier still concealing the man who'd said he'd pick her up at seven. He was _here_ \- and he was a modest eight minutes early. She wondered if he'd plotted such a thing. He seemed the type.

As she moved cautiously toward the front door, her hand reaching for the brass knob as if it might bite her. Feeling the cool metal beneath her fingertips caused Emma to close her eyes, settling the uncertainty radiating throughout every inch of her. Her hand moved automatically, turning and tugging to allow the door to reveal this man she'd never imagined meeting.

He looked _amazing_ \- though it was getting hard to imagine him _any_ other way. Each time she'd found herself met with his burning gaze, he looked so simply handsome yet so devastatingly sexy that Emma wasn't sure which she liked more. However, it was slowly becoming all too apparent that she liked Killian Jones. She liked him a _lot_.

The thought was quickly absorbed in her mind as she set about her regularly scheduled staring. Fitted dark jeans, a soft looking navy blue sweater, and black hair that had possibly been victim to his nervous hands made up the man standing in front of her. Oh and those eyes - those wide, deep _blue_ , possibly hypnotized eyes. Emma's fingers flinched at her sides, her breath hanging tensely in her throat.

"Swan," he breathed, the corner of his mouth lifting into a baffled smirk. "You look-"

He didn't finish what would surely be a carefully crafted compliment - he didn't _get_ to. Emma moved forward faster than she knew she could, locking her lips onto his with a desperate need he seemed to feel too. Her hands braced carefully on his chest as she waited for his astonishment to fade. The moment it did, his hand lifted to cradle her cheek and his mouth moved with a new fervor. Emma's tilted her head to invite his kiss to deepen, an offer he quickly took as his teeth nipped at her lower lip. His tongue grazed hers with intention - and _god_ , Emma wanted to know where that path would lead.

 _Whoa - wait_ , her brain suddenly shouted. They couldn't be doing this _now_ \- they hadn't even been out on the actual date yet. This was _backwards_. It took him only a fraction of a second to sense her hesitation.

"Emma? Are...you okay?"

"I don't...uh," she mumbled, licking her lips as she looked anywhere but right at him. "I'm...yeah, I'm-"

He caught her chin gently with his hand, his thumb caressing her cheek as he fought to keep her with him. Emma froze, her amazement at his ability to do just that taking over as she stared right back. His lips twitched into a small smile as he reached for her hands. She allowed him to tangle his fingers around hers as she pondered him and what had just happened. All she knew for sure was that it was okay - his eyes were telling her that what was happening was _more_ than okay.

No, those eyes were telling her he wanted this - he wanted _her_. The blue of his gaze begged her to kiss him again. She would have. She was going to-

"Mom?"

Emma jumped as the color drained from Killian's face, each of them startled to an equal extent. With her hands still wrapped in Killian's and her mind still hazy with passion, she turned to face the voice she'd come to expect on a typical basis - the words that belonged to the boy currently smirking on the front steps. _Henry_ , she thought as her stomach dropped. This was _not_ happening.


	10. Chapter 10

**FINALLY! Sorry it took longer than intended, friends. This was fun to write and the next one is going to be intense for sure so stay tuned! All rights/characters belong to OUAT. I own nothing!**

* * *

Well, _this_ was awkward.

Killian felt his bones lock as he became unable to move, his stare burning into Emma's until she turned to face the voice that was oddly recognizable. Well, perhaps the ability to pinpoint it was not _too_ peculiar - he'd spent quite a bit of time conversing with the owner of it already that day. Feeling Emma's grip on his arms loosen, they both stepped backward fast and each of them set into a nervous reaction - Killian scratching behind his ear before jamming his hands in his pockets and Emma blinking rapidly as she tried to hide the blush covering her cheeks.

 _God_ , she was adorable. Killian pursed his lips as he tried to hide his amusement.

"Henry, h-hey... _uh_ ," she stammered, her words struggling to arrange themselves. "We were...I didn't...why are-"

Killian peeked sideways at her, raising an eyebrow at her loss of composure. She looked an interesting mix of embarrassed and deathly nervous - and then she looked right at him. It was only a brief flicker. It so quick that he nearly missed it, but somehow he was able to read her expression despite it being so fleeting.

She was asking for _help_. She needed _him_ to say something.

"Hey...lad, _err_ \- Henry," Killian stammered, clearing his throat as he fought for some bravery. "Headed to the docks?"

God, he sounded like a bloody _fool_. Feeling his ears grow hot and his breath become short, he attempted a smile - one that _pleaded_ for mercy. It must have worked because Henry chuckled, shaking his head as he maneuvered his way around them.

"Yeah, I just came to grab my backpack," he explained, beginning to lose the battle with his impending smirk. "My mom - _other_ mom - said I should stay with them tonight. I guess that, uh, makes _sense_ now."

Killian bit his lip harder than intended, chancing a look at Emma. She still seemed at a loss for speech and Killian found himself hoping she wasn't regretting what Henry had just walked in on. God knows _he_ didn't.

"Oh, I guess that's...fine," Emma finally said, her tone stabilizing. "Need a r-ride downtown?"

"Nope," Henry responded quickly with knowing eyes. "I'm just running upstairs and then I'll be...out of the way."

 _Not as terrible as it could have been_ , Killian silently decided as he ignored the implication behind Henry's words. The boy wasn't in the way - there wasn't anything to currently be in the way _of_. Well, for _now_ at least. Killian knew he'd be lying if he said the knowledge of Emma having an empty house at the end of the night wasn't making his head dizzy with hope.

The silence between them was thick, something neither of them felt brave enough to bend. She peeked over at him only once and he allowed his own eyes to meet hers. Their staring contest was brief yet filled with so many elements he wanted to explore - gratitude, embarrassment, _lust_. He planned on using the evening to study each one.

"Got it," Henry announced, reappearing and rapidly in pursuit of the door. "Maybe I'll, _uh_ , see you guys there?"

Killian nodded, looking to Emma as she did the same. Henry shook his head at them once more, laughing softly as he walked out and the door closed with a click. Emma let out a deep breath that neither of them knew she's been holding. He wasn't sure how long they stared at the closed door, but when he finally heard her feet shuffle on the wood floor, it was in pursuit of her jacket.

She pulled it from the hook, refusing to meet his eyes as she started to tug it on. Killian almost thought it would be best to allow her that silence, but when she began to battle with an inside out sleeve, he couldn't help himself.

" _Easy_ , love," he said softly, grazing the fabric with his palm. "Let me help?"

He was prepared to be turned down. He was almost positive she was about to fight him on it, seizing the opportunity to brush him off the way she had during the blackout in her kitchen. He was trying to figure out how to avoid her act of closing off - but he didn't have to think long. As his fingers caressed her skin cautiously, he wrapped his gentle grip around the sleeve to straighten it out. His gaze followed the fabric of the jacket as it moved up her arm, his watching steady until he reached the bright green stare she was offering. He accepted the look willingly, a smirk on his lips as he watched her reaction.

"Better?"

"Yeah," she breathed, adjusting the collar as she fought her own grin. "Thank you."

"No thanks is necessary, love," he replied, trying a wink. "I'd hate for you to catch a chill - though I'd be happy to help with that if needed."

The words twisted themselves together before he could realize they had formed quite the suggestive innuendo. Emma caught it quickly and he shook his head as his stomach flip flopped. The smile that lit up her face was exactly what he needed to sway his insecurities.

"Come on, Casanova," she laughed, rolling her eyes playfully. "Let's go."

"Following you, love."

She spun on the heel of her shoe, pulling on the door knob as she prepared to lead him in the right direction. For some reason, he got the feeling that she liked being his knowledgeable guide - and that she maybe she wanted to get used to doing just _that_.

* * *

It never ceased to amaze her the way Storybrooke transformed into an unfamiliar yet inviting place during the Founder's Day festival each year. The entire place was aglow with brilliant bulbs lining the streets and the air seemed thick with the kind of joyous chatter and laughter that only a citywide celebration would bring. There was a good chance that that there wasn't a single member of the town population missing and the road had been blocked off much earlier to accommodate that fact. The beat of live music courtesy of a band Emma hadn't heard of before was easily heard and several boats lining the water had pulled in to dock near the masses of people, their owners clearly not wanting to miss out on the party. A soft breeze blew through her hair and she caught the sweet scent of the foods she'd come to expect at these gatherings. It was such a hometown sort of scene, the kind of event that Emma never dreamed she'd be part of. From the look of surprise on Killian's face, it was apparent that he hadn't imagined such a thing either.

"Quite the opposite of downtown London," Emma commented as she looked overhead at the twinkling lights. "Sure you're ready for such an extravagant night?"

"I suppose so - yeah," he laughed, tugging nervously on his ear. "This is all kind of new to me though."

Emma tilted her head at that, wondering if he was commenting on more than just his attendance at small town celebrations. He'd had his heart broken recently - she knew that, but she could also feel it. The realization made her a strange sort of sad.

"Well, you know there's always quite a bit happening at these things," she wiggled her eyebrows in a way she knew he'd appreciate, gesturing dramatically to the different booths along the street. "I mean we could buy a fundraiser candle. We could get some hot chocolate. We could play an astounding array of carnival games - since you see to have a fondness for competition and... _strategy_."

She gave him a curious glance, one she was using to see if he caught her subtle retort. Sure, it wasn't as clever as Catcher In The Rye, but she had to make do with the scarcity she had. The way his lips curved upward told her he knew _exactly_ what she was getting at.

"Hmmm - could be fun," Killian began, that flirtatious smirk making her heart race. "Does this mean you're going to let me win you a _prize_ , love?"

"Keep dreaming, Jones."

He shook his head, laughing at the way she continued their little feud of hard-to-get. At least, that's what Emma was _pretty_ sure they were doing. It seemed a little strange to be acting in such a way given the fact that she'd already kissed the _hell_ out of him before the date even started, but she _liked_ it. During the all too brief time they'd known one another, this bantering battle had become their element.

"Well, if you're not open to such a chivalrous act, then perhaps we should-" he decided, raising an eyebrow and nodding toward the ferris wheel across the street. "-ride that?"

" _Oh_ , uh," she stammered, her face draining a bit at the offer. "I mean I...well, I guess-"

"You'll have to forgive the bold assumption, love," he grinned, fusing his eyes to hers. "But I'm _fairly_ sure you aren't scared of heights."

Emma narrowed her eyes in retort at his perception. He was right - she wasn't the owner of that sort of phobia. Being up in the air in a close quartered space with this man though - now _that_ was something that could get her heart hammering pretty quickly.

"Hey," he said gently, checking the area around them before reaching for her fingertips. "Just a suggestion, love-"

"Okay."

The word fell from her mouth a bit impulsively, but the slow smile that eventually stretched across his face made it difficult to regret the decisive word. He seemed happy - no, he _was_ happy. It wasn't hard to see that he liked how she was willing to brave new situations with him. Something about seeing him like this made _her_ happy - and for once, she pushed back the urge to fight it.

"Okay then," he replied, finally settling with the blessed fact that she wasn't shutting him down. "After you, Swan."

She knew his eyes were trailing after her with intent, shaking her head as she watched his lips curve upward once more before pulled carefully on his hand. He looked protective in a way she'd yet to witness. It made sense though - she didn't know how she could be so certain, but Emma _knew_ he wouldn't hurt her. Well, at least for now, _that_ was what she was going to choose to believe. She was going to forget about him leaving, _even_ if only for a night - at least, she was sure as hell going to try.

* * *

"So this is Storybrooke from the sky," he mused, looking out over the water as he took in the seaside surroundings. "Can't say the view isn't worth it, love."

Emma scoffed adorably, peered over the side of the slowly rising wheel. He could sense her apprehension as the ground became further away and instinctively reached for her hand. She flinched a bit in surprise, but the green of her eyes snapped upward gratefully. She looked calmer almost instantly - _almost_ like she trusted him.

He never realized just how badly he could want something from someone he barely knew - but he _did_ want it. Bloody _hell_ , he wanted whatever this was between them.

"Is your fascination with carnival rides-" she taunted, raising an eyebrow in a way he knew all too well. "-or _perhaps_ the company?"

"Hmmm," he started, catching onto her game quicker than he knew he could. "Are you _flirting_ with me, Swan?"

She batted her eyelashes at him and he shook his head at her dramatic gesture. She was _up_ to something. Yes, Emma Swan certainly had an idea rolling around in that head of hers - and he _had_ to know what it was.

"You know you should careful with those eyes, love," he warned her, running his tongue along his teeth subtly. "They make it look as if you're after something."

" _Maybe_ I am," she retorted with a matching smirk. "But yours are making you look like you're _pretty_ curious as to what it might be."

"Well, I've been told to ask and you shall - or _may_ receive," he commented, switching the defining word to a hopeful one quickly. "So what's on your mind, love?"

"Are you going to tell me what the new book is about?"

Ah, so that's what was causing her curiosity. Killian tried to remain unaffected as he raised an eyebrow at her, a response that caused her to smile softly.

"Eager, aren't you? You've only just learned what the first one was about."

"Well, maybe I'm looking forward to some new material," she chided more flirtatiously than he'd been expecting. "You think you could sit by me on a plane for seven hours, mention that you're an author, and then just assume I wouldn't do a little recon on you when I got back to town? What do you take me for?"

"Oh, Swan," he smirked, tapping the back of their rocking seat. "I wouldn't dream of taking you for anything."

Emma's eyes shifted carefully to his at that remark. There was something about this woman - something guarded yet very real. He'd known that from the instant he first allowed himself to believe in her. Maybe it was time to see what he could earn with a little truth - because yes, Emma Swan definitely deserved to be earned.

"The new book is still up in the air, love," he divulged with a shrug. "The truth being that I haven't had much inspiration until recently."

"Hmmm," she began, clearly trying to deflect his potential flattery. "So why don't you tell me about the old book instead?"

Killian shifted slightly, wondering silently about her curiosity. Since the break up, he hadn't thought much about his previous writing. He wasn't sure he was prepared to analyze it free of the relationship that hadn't been working for an undetermined amount of time. He was perhaps a little scared of what he might discover - that his protagonist's choices were based on what he was missing in his own life. It was a startling speculation seeing as how the man in the book made a decision that ultimately landed him alone on a deserted island for much of the novel.

Yet this was _Emma_ asking - something about that fact provoked his honesty. Something made him believe she'd understand it.

"I'm guessing you'd like to know more about Colin?"

She nodded earnestly as her green gaze lit up with attention. His novel had always been popular - he was used to all lines of questioning regarding it. With Emma though... _well_ , this was going to be different. This was going to be the enlightening sort of important.

"I suppose Colin is a collaboration of things - versions of a man that...has been through a lot," he tried, scratching his jaw pensively with a nervous laugh. "He's a few types of broken to be honest. He's lost much - love, family, and ultimately his way in life. I like to think he's a relatable guy."

"Relatable to... _you_?"

 _There_ it was. The equation wasn't exactly difficult - it was typical of people to write the things they knew well and the life he'd infused his protagonist with was full concepts he knew extremely well. Emma had put it together faster than he'd imagined she might - but being caught off guard with that fact would be futile. She'd done nothing but surprise him since he ran into her the first time. He debated the truth as the ferris wheel reached the top, the seat swinging back and forth slightly.

"Perhaps a little," he confirmed with a grin. "Perhaps even a little more than he should."

"Well, I don't know," she countered, matching his expression. "Maybe he's mirroring someone that's really not so bad."

"Not so bad, huh? Now, _that's_ a compliment if I've ever heard one, Swan."

"Hey - I'm fully capable when it's necessary," she laughed, a slight blush on her cheeks. "In this case, it _is_ actually, Killian. I mean - just so you know."

It was an awkward attempt at best, but endearing in a way he didn't expect. She was so nervous about wearing that shade of honesty around him. Killian's mind turned with ideas on how he could change that.

"I'm not usually one to support such things, but about Colin-" she said after a moment, a heavy pause in her sentence catching his attention. "-well, does his story have a happy ending?"

"I suppose that's all a matter of perspective, love," he told her, biting his lip gently. "But if you're asking if he finds what he's looking for - then yes. He definitely does."

Her mouth curved into a smile as he awaited the question he knew she was going to ask. There was no way someone as bold as Emma Swan would miss an opportunity like this one.

"So what _is_ he looking for?"

Killian had barely started to formulate an answer that probably would have fallen short anyway when the tumbling of the ferris wheel came to a quick halt. The sudden stop startled her and he watched her forget the inquiry for a moment as she clutched the enclosing bar in front of her. Killian moved closer instinctively, a desire to keep her safe overwhelming him before he could ponder it further. He reached for her arm carefully, grasping it as his hand slid slowly down to intertwine with hers. Her eyes fell hard on the way his fingers wrapped themselves in hers before she glanced back up at him. Her other hand moved to his bicep without caution and she allowed herself to cling to him, perhaps out of slight fear but _definitely_ out of trust. God, _that_ was a victory he didn't plan for.

"Uh, t-thanks," she stuttered, her face growing red.

"Of course," he said more suavely than he imagined possible. "You okay, Swan?"

"Yeah," she grinned, squeezing his arm tightly. "But ask me again when we get the _hell_ down from here."

"I'll plan on it," he laughed, pulling her to him as he toyed with her fingers. "Until then, I've got ya, okay?"

"Hmmm," she mused as she snuggled closer. "I'm guessing that should free me of worry."

"It _should_ ," he agreed, breathing in the subtle scent of her hair. "But does it?"

"Well," she sighed, laying her head on his shoulder. "I'll let you know."

Killian chuckled as his thumb grazed her shoulder in a back and forth motion. They were quiet a moment as they looked down on the little town below, their breathing slowed to a matching calm as the seat rocked slowly. The ride began to pull them back toward the ground after a few suspended minutes and as they drifted toward the ground, Killian realized that once again, she'd proved just how tolerable being up in the air could truly be.

* * *

"I'm not saying you don't seem capable of it, love. You just don't seem the type to go galavanting across England on your own unless it's for a purpose."

"Well, maybe it was," she retorted, an amused grin playing at the corners of her mouth. "Maybe the reason was just to prove that I could."

The night had been amazing - well, more than amazing. The ferris wheel had spun them into an evening of firsts. It was the first time he'd topped hot chocolate with cinnamon, something Emma swore by and worked her hardest to convince him was normal. It was the first time she'd played darts and the first time she'd accepted anyone's advice on the best way to excel at a competitive endeavor. It was also the first time she'd seen her teenage son enthralled with a girl - one she'd _definitely_ be asking about later. Coincidentally it was also the first time she'd been required to tell Killian to shut up - but hey, Henry taking an interest in dating was not _that_ hilarious.

Amidst all the firsts, there were a few things that were not all that new - and him walking her home was one of them. She'd linked her arm through his, navigating the sidewalk carefully and probably much slower than was necessary. Despite the gentlemanly act of seeing her back to her place being something he already had practice with, Emma couldn't help but take note of just how skilled he was at it.

"Fair enough," Killian smirked, cocking his head sideways. "Did you ever actually have doubts?"

"I don't know - I think other people tend to have those about me," she shrugged, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Being an outsider and all."

"Yeah I know the feeling," he said, giving her a sympathetic smile that was far too attractive. "But for the record, I don't see it, Swan."

"See what?"

"Why anyone would doubt you."

Emma felt her heart skip a beat as his eyes locked fiercely onto hers, his piercing blue fusing with her lighter green. He looked beyond sincere and the tiniest bit reassuring. He wanted her to know that he could look past it all - the shielding yet flirting words and the way she wrapped herself up in words and her son's happiness rather than her own. No, he could see right through it. He could see _her_.

"Very kind of you to say," she replied politely. "But you haven't been around long enough to see me screw up, Killian. Despite your belief, it does happen."

"Ah, but I _have_ been around long enough to know that I've yet to see you fail. I would dare to say it probably happens much less than you think, love."

She pursed her lips at that, allowing her eyes to flicker up toward his. It was a mere fraction of a second that she actually permitted herself to look at him, but somehow he caught her. Their eyes locked familiarly, the equally bright colors warring with each other. Emma didn't know how long she could actually spend staring at this man, but it was sure tempting to find out.

He smiled at her expression before worrying his lip with his teeth in a way that made it hard to remember where she'd left the quilt she'd designated for porch use - the one they'd surely need if they planned on watching the upcoming fireworks that ended the whole event. It wasn't lost on Emma that the night was slowly growing cooler, the sea breeze from the harbor settling on the town as it typically did after sunset. It wasn't _just_ the temperature that was causing her chills though.

He felt it too. She could tell by the way he couldn't seem to keep his gaze from her for long. The few blocks to her house were short and she was happy when he supplied a bit of lighter conversation, telling her all about how he'd run into Belle earlier that day - _literally_.

"You don't seem to be the most attentive walker," she teased, blushing when she saw him do the same. "What happened to the guy who 'isn't easily distracted' by the outer world?"

" _Ah_ , yeah - about that," he grinned, moving closer to her side. "I actually was a rather focused man once upon a time."

"Hmmm," she acknowledged, gasping softly at the way his arm brushed hers. "So what happened?"

"A few things actually," he admitted, shrugging slightly. "Life has a way of supplying diversions I suppose."

"Such as?"

He paused for a moment, staring cautiously at her. Emma knew she was pressing him. She knew she was trying to get him to divulge something - she just wasn't sure what exactly. She shivered as she watched his eyes shift to a darker shade.

"Trials of the heart I guess," he said after a moment, setting himself down next to her. "Past and present - perhaps future a bit as well."

Emma stared up at the darkness for a moment, escaped the stare she knew he was giving her as she contemplated which sort of fireworks would spark first. Something told her it _might_ not be the ones in the sky. By the time they reached the front door, she wasn't even sure exactly how they'd gotten there.

"So," he started awkwardly, hands in his pockets. "I suppose I ought to say thank you."

"Thank you, huh? That seems like an... _interesting_ way to end an evening."

"Not _that_ , love, just that I'd like to say thank you for-" he swallowed hard, staring at the floor but glancing up at her after a moment. "-a wonderful time...and well, for taking a chance. I hope it wasn't too painful?"

She couldn't help but hang on his words as his lips pressed together in wait. There was something shaken about him and she finally realized he truly _didn't_ know how to do this dating thing. She tilted her head slightly with an endearing smile. Broken as he seemed to be, it pulled her in to know he was like her - unsure and skeptical but still wondering about the other person and the mask they hid behind.

"Actually _no_ \- not...at all," she smirked, reaching forward carefully to straighten the collar of his jacket. "I'd even dare say I had a great time."

"I'm glad to hear that," he replied, his lips curving up at the victory. "That's what I was hoping for, Swan-"

"That's _all_ you were hoping for?"

"Uh, well - _no_ ," Killian confessed as his eyes shifted to a darker blue. "But I'd be bold to explain further."

The air thickened between them as Emma felt her heart flip flop in her chest. She tried to read him. She wanted to know what he'd meant by that.

"So," she began, steadying herself for what might come next. "Maybe you should _be_ bold."

She inched closer, the heat radiating between them as she waited on the sharpest pins and needles for what she _knew_ was about to happen - and what she wanted so _desperately_ to happen.

" _Emma_ ," he breathed her name, closing his eyes as she reached for his hands. "If you don't...I'm trying to be a gentleman _but_ -"

"I know - but _don't_."

He froze for a moment, letting her permissive reply sink in as he lifted his hands to cup her cheeks. There was such honesty in his stare that her legs nearly buckled. Emma allowed the scorch of his touch to cling as his thumb smoothed across her cheek.

"Killian-"

His name had barely escaped the confines of her uncertain tone when his lips hit hers. Emma felt him set fire to her entire body as his kiss grew desperate, the control within him gone with a sensual snap. His fingers were threaded hard in her hair as she clutched his biceps for stability. As a soft moan was pulled from his throat, she paused pulling back just slightly with a gasping breath and a smile she couldn't hide. His forehead fell against hers as he let out a deep breath, his fingers dropping to her hips.

"God, _Emma_ ," he breathed in an almost whisper. "You're not making this easy, love."

"Yeah," she replied, her teeth caressing her lower lip. "But maybe I wasn't _trying_ to."

"Ah, well I _see_ that now. So what's your game then, lass?"

"Oh, are we playing a _game_?"

"You tell me, Swan. I was under the impression that your draughts weren't prepared to make any moves."

That heated staring contest returned, his eyes shifting between a nervous blue and a stormy one as he referenced his theft of Salinger's words. He had a look full of intent and Emma didn't doubt that he'd act on it - but he was waiting for _her_. He wanted _permission_. He wanted her to say that she _wanted_ him - and dear god, she _definitely_ did.

"Well, I guess there's only one way to find out. Do you want to come in for coffee-" she hesitated, smirking cautiously before completing her question. "-or a game of checkers?"

"I think I'd be open to that," he replied, tracing her hipbones with a featherlight touch. "But we'll miss the fireworks."

"Hmmm, something tells me-" she assured him, moving closer and allowing her lips to brush his ear. "-that you'll survive."

As his lips descended back on hers and his hands splayed across the expanse of her back, Emma realized that it wasn't his survival she should be concerned with. It was _hers_.


	11. Chapter 11

**Is this story still happening? :] I'm seriously embarrassed that it's taken so long to get this posted. This season of OUAT is wreaking havoc on my poor muse. Anyway, here it is and it's rather m-rated so feel free to assume and skip it if that's not your thing! All rights/characters belong to OUAT. I own nothing!**

* * *

Emma had never been adept at saying goodnight. A simple smile was typically her response when Henry or August said it. An awkward shuffle to the door was her answer when she was ending a bad date - and typically even a decent one. Goodnight just wasn't her game.

Maybe it was the fact that she hadn't grown up with anyone to wish her such a standard pleasantry. Perhaps it was the random bouts of insomnia she encountered over the years, the strange sleeplessness she never expected but always loathed. It was definitely the fact that 'good' wasn't typically a word used to describe the everyday events in her life before Storybrooke. Now though - _well_ , now things were _more_ than good.

The pleasant change of pace didn't mean she had gotten any better at exchanging evening remarks. Yet somehow, in this instance, that was okay - because she didn't _want_ to say goodnight to Killian Jones. No, not in the _slightest_.

That determination was exactly what caused her anxious fingers to fumble with her house key, her pulse stuttering and her cheeks taking on a blush she was glad he couldn't see. She could feel the heat radiating from his close proximity and as she clumsily tried to pair the key with the lock, his breath brushed hot against her neck. Emma couldn't help the way her eyes closed as she absorbed his presence at her back. She was suddenly so lost in him that she didn't realize how terribly operation unlock was going.

" _Here_ , love," he almost whispered, his soft lips grazing the space just behind her ear. "Allow me."

 _Anything_ , she thought silently. She bit her lip hard to avoid the offering of that submissive word out loud. A barely audible gasp took its place and Killian seemed to take immediate notice. Emma couldn't even begin to _imagine_ what he might do with that observation.

The door flew forward with haste and they both stumbled through the entry as his hand landed on her hip. Letting out an expectant gasp, Emma dropped her head sideways as Killian used his guiding fingertips to turn her body back toward him. It was dangerous to chance looking at him during such an instance, but the labored breath he'd left on her neck prompted her eyes upward.

God, he looked _wrecked_ \- completely and totally by any sexual standard Emma could think of. She couldn't help but think of what else she might be able to do to him. She tried not to imagine what else _he_ could do to _her_.

Emma felt her legs move backward automatically as he surged forward to resume the kiss that had ended far too quickly. The wood of the front door was cool against her back as his hips pressed her into the surface and somehow, Emma's head reminded her hand to reach behind to flip the lock down. The moment the deadbolt had clicked, he'd pulled her to him in a frenzy - something that almost seemed like a primal need. Emma couldn't bring herself to question it. She felt it too.

Killian's lips fused harder with hers, his hand guiding her jaw gently into the kiss that was making her want to combust. His opposite hand held her waist steady as his thumb stroked her hipbone. The action prompted a barely audible moan that surprised both of them, but Killian smiled in success as he nibbled her bottom lip.

She could kiss him for _hours_ \- and Emma knew she'd be lying if she said _that_ realization wasn't causing her mind to wander.

They reached up simultaneously as she pulled him closer by the collar of his fitted sweater and he pushed her jacket from her shoulders. The fabric hit the wood floor quietly, but with enough sound to break the passionate fire building in her entryway. Killian steadied his breath as he braced his hands against the door, allowing his body to keep her close like he'd done several times before. Emma gasped softly for air, her pulse in a dead sprint with her caution as she opened her eyes to the simmering burn of his.

"Hey."

The word evaded her with warning and she blushed upon hearing it. He didn't miss a beat.

"Hey," he breathed in response, a smirk on his bruised lips. "Sorry, love. I, _uh_...I didn't mean-"

"Killian," she cut him off, running her hands down his back to the pockets of his jeans. " _Don't_ stop. Kiss me."

He gasped and bit his lip once more, allowing his heated stare to fill with that blue fire again. They probably shouldn't be doing this. They needed to talk about what this whole thing was - or if it was _actually_ anything at all. But as his lips found hers with an escalating fervor and his hands threaded through her hair in a _very_ purposeful way, Emma could think of only one single word.

 _More_.

* * *

Killian wasn't sure if that four letter word had ever sounded _so_ completely sensual in all his life, but the second it left her smooth lips, he was determined to hear it again. With coaxing feet and a firm hand at the nape of her neck, he pulled her back to him. Emma braced her fingertips on his chest as he toyed with the hem of her shirt while trying to stabilize them both. His mind raced as their kiss dissolved into a total haze, one that had the power of surrender - because yes, that's _exactly_ what she seemed to do.

The initial realization of it made Killian stagger and hold his hands carefully against her back as the kiss grew urgent. He felt her grow a bit shaky in his embrace, a fact that intrigued him immediately. He wondered if she really wanted this - if she was truly about to give him the trust he'd been sure she possessed. Deciding to take a brave route, his grip moved slowly down her body and he lifted her by her thighs. She made a surprised noise, but wrapped her legs around his torso as her fingers dove into his hair. Not sure how long he could steady his knees while she was kissing him like that, Killian reached a tentative hand out in search of a wall. He needed a surface to assist with him gaining some balance. More than that, he needed something to press her up against. Yeah, he was _definitely_ going to need that.

"Killian…"

The breathy tone of her voice curved around his name in a way that made his blood run hot. He set her gently against the wall, keeping her elevated with a firm pin of his hips and the needy hold of his wayward hands. His teeth sought her collarbone as her head dropped back against the cool surface, causing a picture frame to slip from the wall. The sound of the wood and glass combination cracking on the hallway floor barely registered as her fingernails dug into his scalp and his mouth moved effortlessly against hers.

" _Killian_."

The second use of his name caused him to pause a moment, a tense gasp leaving his throat as he caught his breath. Emma's fingers continued to card their way through his hair until he finally pulled back enough to look at her. She looked a bit torn and the expression she'd gained was making his stomach sink. Did she not want this?

"Hey - _no_ ," she said softly, sensing his insecure assumption. "It's not that I don't…I just…I have to know…"

He wasn't sure why her words weren't forming proper patterns and his raised eyebrows must have told her so. With a nervous sigh, Emma tightened the grip of her legs around his waist as she clasped her hands at the back of his neck. The move captured his focus and he wondered what she'd do to maintain that next. God knows it didn't take a lot. In the short time they'd known one another, it had _never_ required much.

No, Emma Swan completely entranced him in every way possible. The slightly confident part of him thought maybe he did that for her too. His stare fixated on the slight tremble of her lips as he waited to find out.

"Emma…"

"I just have to know…I mean, I _want_ to know if-" she hesitated, trying to find her voice. "-if you're coming back."

Killian felt his spine straighten at her question, a wave of surprise overtaking him. He saw something then that he'd wondered about before. He knew she had worked hard to bury the look that she was suddenly giving him - he knew that look all too well. He'd worn it before. He'd worn it with her.

" _Emma_ …"

"I just-" she continued, resting her hands at the back of his head. "-need to know if this is a one time thing…because if it _is_ -"

He adjusted his hold on her legs before he pressed forward, capturing her lips and her worry between his own. His tongue begged her mouth to part and when it finally did, he sighed heavily and allowed his kiss to evolve in a way they both seemed to need. He could only hope she understood it - the shaky commitment he wanted to offer her. He started a slow process of dragging his teeth across her lower lip as he tried to find his way to a coherent explanation. He _needed_ to give her that - he needed to admit it to himself even more.

"Emma," he stammered, his breath a bare whisper as he pulled back enough to lock his eyes onto hers. "No airport….or flight….or itinerary could keep me from coming back. I _can't_ stay away, love - and I won't. Not as long as you'll still have me."

"Well," she said after a moment, her mouth curving up in a blushing yet teasing grin. "I didn't mean you had to confess a desire to court me, but if you _insist_ -"

"There's a difference between insisting and requesting, _Swan_ ," he retorted, moving his fingertips under her thighs in a slightly ticklish manner. "For example, I'd be _requesting_ that you allow me to pursue you."

"Ah, ever the gentleman then," she taunted, tugging gently on his scalp. "But is there something you'd be _insisting_ upon?"

"Perhaps," he considered, lowering his mouth back to the exposed skin of her shoulder. "Though I don't know if you'd like me to be that forward, love."

"Oh," she breathed, dropping her head sideways. "Are you claiming that I couldn't handle it?"

"I'm saying-" he started, dividing his statement with a heated kiss against her flesh. "-that if I explain further, my insistence might turn to action."

"Is there something wrong with that?"

"I don't know, love," he continued, moving his lips to her jaw. "Is there?"

He felt her body stiffen against him as he realized just how long he'd kept her suspended there, her back against the wall as she was trapped between that surface and the press of his hips. He took note of what a wonder it was that his knees hadn't buckled. The way the tension was flowing between them was causing the world to dissolve in the air surrounding their position. He couldn't see anything but her in that moment - and he could feel nothing except how badly he _wanted_ her.

"Emma-"

"Killian," she cut him off, moving within an inch of his lips. "I…I want this."

 _Thank god_ , he thought silently as a grateful smirk found the corner of his mouth.

He allowed her to slip from his hold, carefully guiding her body as he lowered her back to the floor. She looked hesitant and even a bit worried, perhaps thinking he'd changed his mind. _Not a chance in hell_ , he mused as his fingers found the zipper on the back of her dress. He raised his eyebrows permissively and she bit her lip in what he hoped was agreement.

Killian was sure time had frozen as he paused with an insecurity he wished he could permanently will away. After what felt like years, Emma's fingers moved to his chest, sliding downward to his waist as they ran along the inseam of his well worn jeans. Feeling his breath halt hard in his chest at the contact, he allowed his hand to tug on the zipper at her back. The way the fabric slowly slid from her shoulders was breathtaking and he couldn't resist tracing the length of her now bare arm, connecting the sporadic freckles he found there as he waited for the article of clothing to fully reach the ground.

She gasped at his touch as his hands fell into a steady pattern of exploration, his eyes never leaving hers. He was almost nervous to step back - to see what what under the dress. Once he did, Killian knew there would be no resisting what he had been imagining since the moment she kissed him on the airplane. Maybe that was okay - maybe she _didn't_ want him to hold back.

He slid back the tiniest bit, trailing his hands down first so his gaze could follow. It didn't take him long to take in the beautiful scene of her half undressed and it took even less time to take in the glorious sight of the only clothing she still had on. Emma Swan was covered only in black lace - and very, _very_ little of it.

She must have caught the heat in his stare and the way his fingers flexed against her waist. She must have sensed the shift in his desire and the manner in which it escalated tenfold in seconds. He knew it wouldn't take much for his control to fall away - and that small push he needed was in the form of a single word that fell from her bruised lips.

"Bedroom."

* * *

The moment her dress hit the smooth wood flooring underfoot, Emma felt her entire world flip over. She wasn't sure how he could make her feel this way - completely sexy, desired, and like she'd hung the god damn _moon_ all at once. Emma didn't ever require such flattery. She didn't ever depend on it either. Yet with him, she'd never wanted it more.

He obviously wanted to worship her - and _god_ , she was going to let him.

Her mind was caught in a whirlwind as a location based word left her lips and he hauled her nearly naked body against his. He lifted her again with unfair grace as he quickly threw his own jacket off and kicked his shoes toward the door. Her legs went tight around him as he held her close, his opposite hand braced at the lowest part of her back and his lips on hers once more before starting the short climb up the stairs.

Emma had no idea how he managed to carry her so effortlessly, but when he reached the floor of the second level, she stole the steady breath he still had with a fierce kiss. They stilled for a moment as his hand tangled in her hair and their pace slowed to something sweeter. The kiss - a kiss like _that_ \- told her everything she needed to know. She didn't know how it had happened, but Killian Jones didn't just want her - he _cared_ for her.

"Bedroom?"

She had to smile at the way he'd turned the word into a question. He exhaled the word against her lips as he lowered her slowly to the floor. Emma couldn't help seizing the opportunity to level the playing field by lessening the amount of clothing he was wearing. Her hands fell automatically to his belt buckle and she kissed him hard as she pulled on the loop with an anxious tug.

"Bloody hell, _Emma_ ," he growled, chasing her lips with a gasp. "You're going...to have…to…lead the way."

She reached for the fabric of his sweater, yanking it up and over his head. She tossed it to the floor behind him as she mused at the way her disrobing gesture has messed up his hair. It stuck up in a few directions, even more so than usual - and for some reason, it was insanely _hot_. He raised his eyebrows in curiosity as he moved his touch back to her hips. Emma's skin burned as he ran his fingertips along the thin lace lining her waist and he bit his lip when her stare confirmed that the door to their immediate left would land them right where they should be.

Emma nearly giggled when he lifted her quickly, squeezing the underside of her legs as he assisted their intertwined bodies in stumbling toward the door. Killian shoved it gently open and Emma tried not to shiver at the way his chest hair brushed her skin as he lowered her to the bed. Pulling hard, Emma finishing the task of throwing his belt to the floor with a soft clatter before she slid backward to rest on her elbows. Killian reached down to flip the button of his jeans before leaning down to fall back into their heated kiss. Slipping her hands into his back pockets, Emma teased him with a gentle grasp and he cupped her jaw with a shaky breath.

"Looking for something there, love?"

"Hmmm," she replied with a smirk, nipping at his lower lip. " _Maybe_ …"

"Wallet, Swan," he breathed, reaching back to remove one of her hands with a chuckle. "I'll get it."

"Mmm, glad to see you're prepared," she laughed as his lips moved back to her neck and he tossed the plastic package onto the sheets.

"Emma," he said softly, raising an eyebrow at her in worried defense. "It's not like that-"

"I know it's not," she assured him. "I just…I want you."

He hesitated once more, his thumb lingering at the hem of his jeans as he stared down at her. His teeth were worrying his bottom lip familiarly as his eyebrows raised, his hair still a total, devilishly handsome disaster. Emma wasn't sure how he could look so cute, so concerned, and so smoldering at the same time, but _damn_ , he could sure pull it off. She didn't want him second guessing this - it was too important to her. It was a turning point, one she wanted to experience.

Reaching up to push the denim on his legs to the floor, Emma stared at him patiently as he hovered above her with an absolutely sinful look on his face. The possible impact of the moment lingered between them and Killian moved slowly, carefully resuming a slower kiss as his hand reached back to unhook the clasp of her bra. The lacy fabric slipped down her chest and she tossed it to the floor as his lips possessed hers with a passion she was really starting to love. Her fingers fumbled, but eventually caught the hem of his boxer briefs and she pulled on the waistband firmly. He took the hint and shoved the fabric to the floor with his pants, watching her with amusement as she took in his now _very_ bare skin.

"Lie back, love," he told her quietly, his breath hot against her ear as he coaxed her down against the sheets.

Emma watched his fingers tease and then peel the remaining fabric from her lower body, throwing it to join the rest of the clothes littering the bedroom carpet. His hands roamed the expanse of her skin - his thumbs brushing her ribs as his head fell to her chest. His lips began a gentle assault, caressing every inch of her torso as he began to grind his hips into hers. He hovered above her, tucking her hair behind her ear before laying his kiss firmly on her lips. She didn't know how he managed it all at once, but he settled his hand at the back of her head, prompting her to follow the movement of his mouth with her own as his body writhed against hers. Emma moaned subtly and he picked up the pace of the kiss, gripping her thigh to pull her closer.

" _Emma_."

 _God_ , the way he said her name in that moment was all the encouragement she needed. This was _right_. This was _okay_. She trusted him - and she _wanted_ him. Every _single_ inch of him.

"Killian," she moaned, her tone needy and wanting. "I… _please_ \- I need you."

He gasped, shifting carefully as he anchored his eyes on her with an intent honesty. She saw it then - the possibility in his unwavering stare. He could be _here_ with her. He could be _hers_. He could possibly even _love_ her. She just had to let him.

Maybe that was something to consider. Maybe she wanted that more than she was willing to admit.

"Emma, love," he breathed, his body hard and taut as he rutted against her. "I don't…I haven't…"

The flicker of fear in his stare was barely noticeable, but Emma hung on it with a curiosity she didn't mean to have. It didn't take long for her to figure it out - he hadn't done this since his breakup and definitely not with anyone except the woman Emma still hadn't asked much about. He was _nervous_. She tried to bite back her smile at the realization that this moment was all it took for this confident, smoldering man to cave just a little.

" _Hey_ \- don't. It's okay," she interrupted, bracing her hand at the back of his neck as she started to roll her hips up into his. "It's just us here…you and me. Okay?"

"You and me," he repeated after a moment, a slow grin curving at the corner of his mouth. "Okay."

Emma pulled his mouth back to hers, her head tilting on its own to accommodate his anxious kiss. She heard the faint sound of him tearing open the package as his teeth nibbled her lower lip. A low moan was drawn from her throat as he settled hard and hot against the inside of her thigh. She trembled a little as she adjusted her hips and the effort of Killian's lips escalated, his tongue finding hers as he thrust into her at a deliciously slow pace.

"Killian….oh, _god_ …"

He groaned, moving a little faster as Emma gripped his shoulder blades. Their bodies fused so easily and so naturally that the world around them became a surreal blur. Emma's hands found their way into his hair and she tugged at it gently. She wanted _more_.

"Emma…bloody _hell_ …"

" _Killian_ ," she mumbled against his neck, pulling her teeth carefully across the skin. "Don't stop. God, _please_ don't stop. _More_."

Their speed became desperate, Killian's body pressing firmly into hers in a manner Emma never knew to be possible. Every little thing he did set her ablaze as his teeth and tongue found the curve of her collarbone while he began to grind hard. The moment his lips adhered gently to her skin in a heated action, Emma began to unravel without restraint. She let out a pleasured moan as he grasped her legs and pulled her to his chest, lifting her as he moved to his knees. Emma's head dropped back and Killian's lips fell ruthlessly to her chest as he rutted up hard and then throbbed, his release pulsing as she tightened around him. They stayed like that for a moment, riding out every second of ecstasy before falling back to the sheets.

Her body was boneless as she stilled next to him while they caught their simultaneous breath. With composure slightly regained, he turned to look at her with a satisfied smile. It was totally out of character, but as something that felt an awful lot like trust ran through her veins, Emma shifted into his embrace. His arms wrapped instinctively around her as their words became lost in a way that suggested tomorrow to be the time for talking. In that completely comfortable instance, all Emma wanted to do was fall asleep against the thumping sound of his heartbeat.

* * *

The early riser persona Killian had possessed for years pulled him from his sleep the next morning as the dull flicker of daylight filtered in through the curtains. He blinked his eyes rapidly, taking in his surroundings with a slight confusion. He'd barely begun to shift around under the sheets when he felt her nuzzle back against him. _Emma_ , he thought quietly with a slowly spreading smile. He looked down at her as she cuddled back up against his side, his arms pulling her close as she sighed quietly.

God, she was _beautiful_. She was captivating. She was intriguing. Most importantly though, she was _here_ \- and so was he. She'd let him stay. Something about that made his heart race just a bit faster.

It didn't take long for that feeling to hitch in his chest, the knowledge of how his current location wasn't permanent pounding in his head. His week was dwindling every minute of the few days he was being allotted to visit this town - yes, the one he'd so stubbornly avoided. Had he known _she_ was here…well, he might not have been so insistent on dragging his tired feet about journeying to the states. If he'd known that a lazy morning like one was what waited beyond the lies and libations back in London, he may have agreed to make the trip sooner. Somehow though, despite his avoidance and brief spiraling, he'd _still_ wound up finding her. Killian wasn't exactly sure what it all meant, but he knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his time in Storybrooke trying to figure that out.

He wanted to be with her as long as he could - and perhaps even _longer_. He just had to find a way.

"Hey," she said softly, her voice laced with sleep and feigned annoyance as she stirred next to him. "Are you watching me sleep?"

"Sort of I suppose," he admitted, pushing his recent train of thought away as he smiled. "Though I haven't been awake long, love."

"Sleep well?"

She asked with such an adorably hopeful tone, her eyes a light and rested green as she propped her chin up on his chest. Killian felt the corner of his mouth move upward in a satisfied smirk. Seriously, how had his recent stroke of awful luck landed him such a fortuitous position? He tried not to question it - there wasn't time for self doubt with her.

" _Extremely_ well actually," he confirmed, rolling sideways and tucking back a strand of her hair. "Though I must say I never pegged you as the cuddling type."

"Hey, I'm... _not_ ," she blushed, catching his bare toes with hers. "But you have quite the restless pair of feet. It's like trying to sleep with the Tasmanian devil spinning around in the sheets."

"Oh? I was under the impression that _any_ movement I made in this bed-" he flirted, rolling to anchor himself above her. "-had _your_ approval."

"It's not...I never..."

Her voice trailed off, a soft silence giving him all the permission he needed. Killian allowed his head to drop carefully as his lips quickly met her very eager ones. The fire that simmered between them was one he'd never felt before - not even with Milah. No, whatever chemistry had begun to burn between them was _very_ new territory.

As her mouth opened permissively, Killian couldn't resist allowing his tongue to find hers. His hand lifted to cup her jaw, prompting their kiss to deepen as a soft moan escaped her. It was almost like her body could predict his - and he had no problem allowing that guessing game to carry on.

"Mmmm," Emma hummed, pulling back slightly and biting her lip. " _Killian_."

Groaning softly in return, Killian settled his body above hers. His leg slipped in between hers and she shifted slightly. The quick movement was enough to remind him about the clothes they'd forgone the night before while drawing his attention to the way her bare skin felt against his - and god, he'd never been so thankful for a lack of fabric in his _life_.

"That's my name, darling," he acknowledged, moving his lips to her neck. "I'm fairly certain you know that _quite_ well though. You've had quite a bit of _practice_ -"

"Okay, you've made your point, Killian," she interrupted, her eyes rolling as her fingers ran up the back of his scalp.

"You're _sure_ it doesn't need to be reiterated, love? I mean I've got some time-"

"Maybe later," she smirked, snuggling into his chest. " _Probably_ later."

"I think that sounds like a reasonable plan," he decided, wrapping his arms around her bare torso. "Though I'd rather it was 'sooner' than 'later."

"I think I'd prefer that too," Emma agreed with a sigh, one that gathered the attention of his blue eyes quickly. "I've gotta go into the bar today though - _ugh_ , soon actually. August is going to kill me."

"That doesn't seem like an effective reaction," he chuckled, weaving his legs through hers. "If he wants your help with work, it might be a better idea to keep you alive. Actually I think I prefer you that way too, love."

"Good to know," she sighed, scratching his back softly. "So today...what, uh, what are you up to today?"

"Actually, I thought I'd try to get a little writing done," he replied, lifting a hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. "Then I was hoping that maybe I could see you."

Killian felt his heart race as he watched her eyes light up at his offer. She looked so simply happy under the cover of the sheets and the early sunshine. He'd never seen her look so peaceful and content. Getting used to it was something he knew he could learn to do easily.

"I think I'd like that," she replied, her eyes an honest green. "Maybe you could stop by the bar?"

"I could probably do that," he said with a soft laugh.  
Her gaze seemed to study him and she tilted her head sideways, pursing her lips in curiosity. Killian ran his fingertips up and down the bare expanse of her back as he waited for a question he knew was coming.

"What…what's that face?"

" _Hmmm_ ," he hummed, furrowing his eyebrows. "What face?"

" _That_ -" she answered, reaching up to brush the dimple on his cheek. "-face?"

Killian analyzed her words, trying to figure out how to explain his expression in a way that might not be too forward. Her smirk was a bit uncertain as she waited, her breath relaxed as he lifted a hand to swipe a strand of hair away from her cheek. Maybe bold was okay - maybe it was a chance or a step, but he saw an opening. He _had_ to take it.

"I guess-" Killian started, the corner of his mouth moving upward. "-I'm happy."

She looked a little disbelieving, almost like she didn't think it was possible. That slow simmer of doubt filled his mind for an instant, threatening to overtake his voice and force him into backpedaling - but then he saw everything change. Her eyes lightened as her mouth lifted into a grin, a sweet sigh leaving her lips on the tail of the two words he never expected to hear her share in that moment - but she did.

"Me too."

There in the dim room of her home on the dawn of a brand new day, everything moved slowly into focus. Killian leaned down to kiss her, the tingle of her lips against his clarifying every single thing he had been questioning. He had completely fallen for Emma Swan - and the air was suddenly much more clear than it had been in years.


	12. Chapter 12

**Alright, it might be too late for this, but I'm going to try to breathe some life back into this story! I don't know if anyone's still reading, but I want to try to continue this so we'll see where it goes. Thank you for continuing to support my writing, even though I've been all over the place with it lately! You are all amazing! XOXO**

 **As always, I own nothing. All rights/characters/my soul belong to the creators and writers of OUAT.**

* * *

Ridiculous. Smitten. Truly and _completely_ dazed. There was an endless list of adjectives that could have been selected to describe the smile that had worked its way across Killian's lips by the time he found his way back to Robin and Regina's house. He was almost sure he'd been struck by some sort of lightning or magic, but truthfully, he knew it was much better.

He'd been struck by Emma Swan - and _that_ was a whole other sort of electric.

Wondering which way or excuse would be best as he turned the knob to the Locksley residence, Killian moved stealthily inside. The house was quiet, absent of the noise that accompanied the daily workings of the happy little family who lived there. The faint scent of coffee drifting from the kitchen and the sound of a working dishwasher confirmed that the space was only recently vacated, a fact that prompted Killian's relieved sigh. The silence was pleasing for a few different reasons, but the first was that it meant he'd kept to his word - leaving her house post breakfast but before Henry's return. He wasn't particularly fond of the promise itself, but keeping his honor regarding things he'd committed to with Emma was important to him.

Even though honorable wasn't _exactly_ how the previous night could be described - at least not once they landed back in the same spot where she kissed him senseless prior to their date. Returning to that particular position was an act that threw honor out the _bloody_ window, something he was all too fine with when he pressed her carefully against the door in a moment he wanted to relive again and again.

He knew he _should_ feel guilty. He hadn't been single for long and god knows he was still a mess of sorts over the whole breakup. Emma deserved more than the broken-hearted writer who was all but passing through. When he'd woken up to see her laying at his side, he just couldn't shove aside his unexpected joy long enough to feel remorseful. He _liked_ her. She _wanted_ him. Somehow, he'd found his way back to an emotion he didn't know he still had access to - he was _happy_. For the first time in ages, he wasn't going to question it.

He showered fast, running his hands through his dark hair with that grin still present. His eyes closed as he let the water rush over his body and steam filled the space. Allowing his mind to wander to Emma, he couldn't help but wonder how she'd look in this situation - relaxed and drenched in soapy water. It was a thought that could have distracted him mercilessly, but he brushed it away. He wasn't about to settle for something solo - not when he could _hopefully_ have the real thing again. Of course, that was assuming she'd want what he couldn't stop thinking about.

God, he sure hoped that was the case.

He'd barely dried off, his head still damp and a towel low on his waist when the phone began to ring on the counter. His heart pounded, knowing it wasn't Emma since she had gone in for a day of work at the bar. No, this was a different anticipated phone call - and one he knew he'd have to deal with eventually. _Like a bandaid,_ Killian thought as he lifted the device and swiped the screen.

"Hello?"

"Well, well, _well_."

There it was - the arrogant, knowing, _smug_ tone of his best friend's victory voice. It wasn't unexpected but _god_ , it was annoying.

"Fair morning to you too, mate," Killian replied, trying to distract himself with finding his toothpaste.

"It _is_ a lovely day, Jones," Robin smiled through the phone. "So wonderful that there's only one reason you'd opt not to start it at my house - and no, that reason is _not_ that you drank yourself into a stupor at the docks."

"I suppose you won't accept time travel as an answer then either," Killian sighed. "Or that I lost my way while trying to get back?"

"We celebrated the anniversary of Back To The Future already, Marty McFly, so no-" Robin teased. "-and you clearly found your path this morning so I've got to call pure rubbish on that as well."

"Alright," Killian conceded finally. "Out with it, Rob."

"I think I'd much rather hear about your night out in person," Robin laughed. "Seems like a good day to have lunch or get a drink-"

"Actually we probably shouldn't go to the bar…."

"Not _there_ , you gimp," Robin answered. "The diner on main. It's run by a little old woman who makes a hell of a grilled cheese sandwich. Flat out brilliant actually."

"Fine," Killian agreed. "But I think this time you ought to give me the name of the bloody place."

"Fair enough," Robin chuckled. "It's called Granny's - and I'll meet you there in an hour.

 _Bested again_ , Killian thought with a shake of the head. He didn't know how he'd become so talented at falling victim to his best friend's concerned and quite frankly intrusive questioning. Okay, that was a lie. _That_ reason's name was Emma Swan - and he could definitely learn to live with the repercussions of this new distraction.

* * *

Emma didn't know how long she'd been standing in the position of contemplating what color of blue his eyes were before the noise of entering patrons pulled her back to reality. She was surprised she caught herself before she polished a hole into the bar top, suddenly stilling the towel she'd been using with a soft smile. She'd tried to come into work with a purpose that morning before they even opened - filling a few orders, getting a jump on the new payroll, setting a weekend schedule - but it was useless. The only thing she could think about was the man she'd woken up next to and how much she wouldn't mind being in that situation again. Well, or in a _few_ others perhaps as well.

A subtle blush colored her cheeks at the thought and she instantly tried to will it away - especially once she noticed August and his amused smirk emerge from the back room. Oh _god_ , she'd been _dreading_ this moment.

"Morning to you, Em," he grinned, a knowing glint in his eye. "Didn't think you'd be in so early."

She saw the slight hint of bragging in his stare, a sight that warranted an eye roll as she turned back to making her distracted supply list. He wasn't going to ask about the date - it was obvious he already knew. Well, more like he'd speculated. _Dammit Ruby_ , Emma thought without looking up.

"Well, the bar won't open itself," she commented as she tried to avoid his eyes. "Plus I've got a few things to catch up on."

"Well, it's that-" August contemplated, pausing to raise an eyebrow. "- _or_ you're avoiding something."

"I don't see why you're so concerned with my motives for arriving early to work," she said with feigned nonchalance. "Maybe I just want to catch up with my big brother?"

"Right," he laughed. "As much as I'd like to believe that to be your solitary purpose, I don't think I'm a good enough reason to clock in hours before we actually open."

"Well, _you're_ here too."

"True - I am," he nodded. "But you, Emma Swan, are _hiding_."

"Hiding, huh? From what exactly?"

"Your feelings, your thoughts, your conclusions perhaps," he started, leaning back against the counter. "Maybe trying to keep away from a certain tourist?"

Ah, yes - _there_ is was. She'd been wondering when the Killian conversation would happen. _Nearly right on schedule_ , she thought with a soft sigh. August was truly _far_ too concerned with her methods - or lack thereof.

"He's not a tourist - he's a _visitor_ ," she explained, tossing the bar towel over her shoulder. "He's…. _it's_ not even that big of a deal."

"He's enough of a deal that he's got your head in the clouds, Em," August retorted, tossing a rogue straw at her. "But I have to say I'm glad to see it. He's a good guy."

"You barely know him!"

"So do you," he defended, a victorious grin taking control of his lips. "But what I've seen so far, he's nice enough, has a solid career that's taken some extremely hard work, and seems to be completely mesmerized by the girl who runs the bar on main street."

"Why are you suddenly so invested in endorsing Killian Jones? You know he's leaving soon, August."

The reminder hit her like a bag of bricks, the air dying about in her throat. She knew he wasn't permanent - she'd known since she met him. His brief appearance in her world wasn't _supposed_ to be like this. The idea of him boarding a plane in the opposite direction wasn't _supposed_ to hurt. He wasn't _supposed_ to be this man - the type she wanted to stick around. Between spilled coffee and street fairs, something had definitely gotten lost in translation.

She truly should have worried less about losing her luggage and more about keeping track of her wits. _Damn airport_ , she thought with a slight smirk.

"That didn't sound like a permanent sort of leaving last I talked to him, Em."

"Oh," she said, a startled eyebrow lifting. "He….he said that?"

"He didn't _have_ to," August grinned. "You are both pretty easy to read."

"Right," Emma sighed, trying to brush him off. "It's good to know you've got us both so figured out."

"I never said _that_ ," he retorted, polishing a stray shot glass. "I don't think it'd be possible at this point, considering the fact that I don't think you _two_ have figured yourselves out yet."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, we've been standing here bantering around the subject of Killian Jones and you've yet to answer the key question here, Em," August said, setting the towel down on the bar. "What do you want from him?"

Emma's mind spun at the blunt question, her brain firing a thousand answers at once. She _liked_ him. She wanted to see him. Maybe wake up with him again among….well, among _other_ things. She couldn't say any of that to August though. She wasn't ready for the prodding that was sure to come along with that admission.

"I don't….I guess….well, I guess I'll let you know."

"Hope so," August smiled, shaking his head at her vague response. "We both know I'll hold you to that."

"Mmm-hmm," Emma replied, wandering toward the back office. "I don't doubt that for a second."

* * *

"Yeah, we are not talking about this."

Killian smirked quite characteristically as he picked up his coffee mug, the porcelain warm as steam rose from the top. It was filled to the brim, swirled with a little sugar and zero guilt - the way he'd _chosen_ to take it that morning. As the familiar smell woke up his senses, he realized that it was exactly what he needed on a morning like this one.

What he did _not_ need was another chance to explain himself to his best friend - although Robin didn't seem to agree. The look on the inquiring man's face told Killian that this battle wasn't about to end with a quiet surrender.

"The neverending saga of the rogue and quite _evasive_ Killian Jones continues," Robin chuckled, his grin victorious and happy. "If you're going to keep doling out that line, you should see if they'll let you use it for your next book title."

"Funny, Rob," Killian said with an eye roll. "That's assuming I'm writing another book."

"What do you mean you're not….hey, _don't_ change the subject," Robin scolded, pointing at him when he recovered from distraction. "Just tell me about the date, dammit."

"I, _uh_ ….well, there's not much to tell."

Killian didn't know if that sentence could sound any more like a lie than it already did. He toyed with the edge of his napkin as he tried to sift through the moments since he'd met her. There'd been something there since the beginning - since the instant he spilled coffee all over her at the London airport. The truth was that there was _plenty_ to tell. He just didn't know how much of that Robin needed to know. He bit his lip as he decided to offer up a fact that might shut his friend up - well, at least for _now_.

"I like her."

"Stating the obvious a bit, mate," Robin smiled, tapping his fingers on the table. "The way you've been grinning like a fool since you sat down gave you away, Jones. Plus I spoke to Henry over breakfast. Apparently he caught sight of just how _much_ the pair of you seem to like each other-"

"Oh, bloody _hell_ ," Killian grumbled, rubbing his hands down his face. "That wasn't….we didn't…."

"Say no more," Robin interrupted with his hand upright. "I'd prefer to keep my lunch down if that's quite alright with you. For the record though, he didn't sound nearly as disgusted as he had every right to. The lad must think you're of the decent sort, mate."

Killian mused quietly to himself at that remark, trying to hide the small smile Robin's words had sparked. He had reveled in the idea of Henry liking him from the start and hearing that perhaps he truly did was butterfly inducing. The thought of being approved of had been rolling around in his mind for only moments when the little bell above the diner door shook with a soft ding. His eyes were pulled toward the sound of tiny dashing footsteps and wild, wavy hair.

 _Roland_ , Killian grinned to himself as the boy headed their way.

"Papa!"

"Ah, _there_ he is," Robin greeted, lifting the little boy onto his lap with a groan. "Out and about on the town with your brother today, my boy?"

Roland nodded as Killian realized he hadn't even noticed who'd trailed in behind the bounding kid. A genuine smirk found the corners of Killian's mouth as he noted the sight of that floppy dark hair and deep brown eyes, all equipped with that trademark backpack and striped scarf.

"Hey Robin - oh, and Killian," Henry smiled, adjusting the strap slung over his shoulder. "My mom said you guys were meeting for lunch and Roland wanted to come see you."

"No, I said I _wanted_ to ask Uncle Killian about his date," Roland clarified, tilting his head to look at his dad. "Henry says it's called 'interrogating'."

"Oh, _wow_ \- yeah," Henry blushed, rubbing his neck. "I'm just going to….get some, _uh_ , cocoa. Be back in a second."

"Ah, so you've come to victimize our favorite visitor," Robin laughed. " _That's_ my boy."

"Good to see you've spread your nosy demeanor to the next generation of Locksley men," Killian commented, narrowing his eyes at his best friend. "Poor quality to pass along in my opinion."

"Uncle Killian, do you _like_ Aunt Emma?"

Roland's eyes were that big, pleading brown and he tilted his head to the side with adorable inquiry. Killian matched his expression with a narrowed, knowing stare which promptly gathered a giggle from the boy. His mind scrambled for a plan that might provide some distraction from the topic everyone was suddenly _far_ too interested in.

"Hey, I'm actually running down to the library for a bit this afternoon," he started, raising an eyebrow at Roland. "Maybe if your dad says it's okay, you can come too if you'd like?"

"Me _and_ Henry?"

"Oh - well….yeah," Killian stammered, annoyed that he was suddenly so nervous regarding Emma's son. "I mean if he wants to."

"I'll go tell him!"

Roland hopped down from his dad's knee and took off toward the counter at the only pace he seemed capable of. Killian tried to watch him in hopes that he might be able to observe Henry's reply, but his spying was quickly shattered by a loud clearing of the throat from the opposite end of the table.

"I know I've mentioned before that being subtle isn't your strong suite, mate," he glared, tapping the tabletop. "But turning the kid against me is bad form."

"Oh, _please_ ," Robin groaned, finishing his coffee. "You've got the afternoon to convince him of whatever you want. I, however, have _my_ answer and I'm sticking to it."

"I'm glad you've got me sorted, Rob."

"Someone's got to get you straightened out, you ponce," Robin smirked, pulling his coat on. "It's good to know that I might have Emma's help with that now as well."

He laughed a bit as Killian rolled his eyes, coupling it with a shake of his head to emphasize just how much he disliked a lack of holding the upper hand. He was in the process of conjuring and stowing a proper response when their banter was upstaged by Roland's tugging hand finding his own.

"Come _on_ , Uncle Killian," he coaxed, pulling as hard as his little arm was able to. "Henry said he would come with us so we should go now….before Leroy comes in to eat. He's _really_ loud."

"Oh yeah?"

"He's not wrong," Henry shrugged, offering him an awkward grin. "He's a nice guy, but he's definitely not quiet about it. You still want to go, right?"

"Yeah….yeah, I'd love to," Killian decided, his excitement suddenly quite real as he turned to Robin. "I'll see you later, Locksley, and I trust you'll be discreet about what you've…..well, what you _think_ you heard today."

"I'll do my best," Robin laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. "Now try not to soil my son's mind with any dense literature, Jones. None of that Seuss stuff."

"Right," he said, a little victory sneaking into his smile as he nodded toward the door. "Come on, boys - let's go see if we can find out why a cat _would_ want a hat."

* * *

Emma felt the day drift on in slow motion, her head in a total fog as she tried to play the competent business owner. The task shouldn't have been so difficult - she'd always been good at the ins and outs of her job, even in the beginning when the bar was anything but profitable. Today was different though. Today, her inability to get her professional act together was _his_ fault.

"Oh my god! _Emma!"_

The sudden screaming coming from the front doors caused Emma's anxious hands to halt, dropping the stack of napkins she'd been absentmindedly rearranging. It wasn't necessarily startling - the shrill, ecstatic tone made a presence in the bar more than a few times a week. But there was a reason that the owner of that exclaiming voice sounded so excited and Emma was all too unprepared to deal with it.

"Hi Ruby," she said, raising her eyebrows in feigned nonchalance. "I was wondering when you might stop by to scare off our afternoon crowd."

"Normally I _love_ your passive aggressive greetings, Em," Ruby grinned, hopping up onto a stool. "But we both know that today my interests are elsewhere. Now, _start_ talking."

"Oh my _hell_ ," Emma sighed, rolling her eyes. "What is this sudden fascination everyone seems to have with my love life?"

"Well, it's been awhile since you actually had one of those, Em," Ruby commented. "But maybe it's because we just want you to be happy….and if the smiles we saw last night at the docks are anything to go by, the pair of you seem to make each other _very_ happy."

"It's good to know you guys were spying," Emma said with narrowed eyes. "But I don't know if any of that actually matters."

"Why wouldn't it?"

Emma couldn't help the way she bit her lip or the uncomfortable sigh that followed it. The hours she'd endured at work seemed to be getting to her as they continued to add up. Ever since she'd reminded herself and August that Killian wasn't sticking around, it was the only thing she'd been able to think about - and god, she _hated_ the idea more than she wanted to admit.

"He's going home, Rubes," Emma told her, a matter-of-fact tone taking over. "It doesn't really matter how he makes me feel."

Ruby's expression shifted quickly, moving from a state of analyzing to a look of convincing. Emma wasn't sure where this conversation was about to go, but she certainly didn't expect the direction that her fiery friend was about to give her.

"Ask him to stay."

"Ummm," Emma stared, trying not to choke on her response. "What?"

"You heard me," Ruby repeated. "Ask him….or _tell_ him. Something tells me that he'd probably take an order from you."

"Ruby, please," Emma laughed, trying not to blush at the implication. "It's not….like that…."

"Like _hell_ it isn't," Ruby grinned. "I'm not blind - but seriously, Em….good for you."

"Good for me?"

"Umm, yeah," Ruby said with wides eyes. "You have _seen_ the man, right?

"Ruby, I don't think-"

Emma turned away for a moment, reaching for a glass that could contain the drink she knew Ruby was about to request. Her fingers fumbled in the same pattern her words just had and it didn't take long for the crystal clear tumbler to fall into a shattered mess at her feet.

 _Bloody hell_ , Emma thought silently. God, that damn Irishman and his creative cursing - even _that_ was getting to her now.

"I'll take that as a 'yes' on the _'seeing'_ him," Ruby confirmed, a victorious smirk on her lips. "So like I said - _very_ good for you, Em."

"Okay, I got it," Emma groaned, retrieving the dustpan from under the bar and handing it to Ruby. "Now go clean that up while I pour you whatever you're drinking today."

"Whatever whiskey you deem appropriate," Ruby sighed, a teasing glint in her dark eyes. "Don't forget to grab a glass of 'I told you so' for yourself too, Em. I hate drinking alone."

Emma felt her face go scarlet as she let out a flustered huff. This was certainly going to be a _long_ afternoon.

* * *

"So you finished up all the Arthurian stuff," Killian commented, tilting his head toward Henry's pile of books to be returned. "Did you like it?"

Roland had taken to running ahead of them, circling back once or twice with an energy Killian wished he could bottle. It was nice to see how comfortable the two kids had become with one another - Henry seemed to have the protective big brother role down to a science. Trying not to reminisce similar moments from his own upbringing, he fought not to envy the life they'd all built here. It was becoming increasingly difficult though - the more he learned and the longer he stayed, the less he wanted to leave. He _liked_ this world. He wanted _this_ life.

"It was okay," Henry shrugged. "I liked the legends and all the stuff about knights, but some of it kind of lacked closure I guess. I think I'm ready for something different."

Killian tried not to beam too much - this was one hundred percent _his_ playing field. He'd taken note of the things he had in common with Emma's teenage son over the course of their sporadic meetings and it all came back to the books. It seemed that a solid foundation to build a bond on and as Henry checked for cars as they stepped into the road, Killian lifted a scratching hand to that nervous place behind his ear.

"So, uh, what were you thinking of reading next?"

"Well, I'm still kind of debating that I guess," Henry sighed. "The history stuff is way cool, but I guess I kind of just like to read a good classic now and then."

"Oh - like a fairytale or something?"

"Yeah," Henry said, trying to hide his flustered cheeks. "That's stupid, isn't it?"

"No, not in the slightest," Killian chuckled, his smile achingly honest. "I've always been a sucker for those - heroes and villains alike. I was pretty partial to Peter Pan when I was your age actually."

"Really? I _love_ ….I mean, _uh_ , me too."

Henry's near outburst was reigned in, but not before Killian could get another glance at how much he had in common with the boy. He had to wonder how far those similarities stretched and the thought pushed him toward an idea.

"I could help you….I mean, if you want," he offered, a genuine interest taking hold of his words. "If you need it."

"You….aren't busy?"

Killian shook his honestly, hoping his smile confirmed his interest. He knew he should be writing - hours of battling his ideas via computer screen reminded him that this next novel wasn't about to write itself. There was something about wandering the shelves with this kid though. They were quite kindred souls in the oddest and most unexpected way.

What was hopefully a complying response from Henry was cut off instantly by the insistent chiming of Killian's phone. He yanked it from his pocket, giving Henry a glance of apology before swiping across the screen to see what was so adamantly seeking his attention. The email tab lit up and upon clicking it, he truly wished he hadn't.

The meeting is set up with the publishers. Send me your flight plans by the day's end, Jones. Vacation time is over.

 _Gold_ , he thought with an internal irritation. He knew this moment was coming. He knew he didn't have much time left to entertain the idea of this other life. He knew the past would come calling, but he never imagined how much he'd feel tempted _not_ to answer. What to say was not a decision he should be making - not right now at least. His head spun with ideas on how to handle it, but they all came back to one starting place.

He needed to tell Emma.

"Everything okay?"

He snapped his eyes back up from the screen, trying to redirect his attention to the curious stare Henry was giving him. He suddenly recalled the conversation they'd been having before the technological distraction and he knew the boy was still awaiting the status of his schedule. He smiled weakly, trying to appear apologetic - although he wasn't sure why he felt like he needed to be.

"Yeah - yeah, all good," he nodded, shoving his phone back into his jeans. "I'd love to help, lad."

"Okay then," Henry said, a half smile given in return. "What would you suggest?"

"Well," Killian started, biting his lip pensively. "How do you feel about Greek mythology?"

* * *

Emma sat on an old, squeaky red stool as she sorted through receipts, a pencil behind her ear somewhat adding to her attempt at a businesslike persona. She had finally conquered the stack of bills that had piled up in her absence and had absorbed the shock of the bar continuing to be so profitable. She hadn't expected that in the beginning - honestly, it's not what opening the bar had been about.

It had been a step toward stability and safety. It had been about finding a _home_. It had been about Henry and August and Ruby and even the frustrating relationship she had with Regina.

Now, maybe it was time for this to be about her. Maybe it _was_ okay for her to finally be a little selfishly happy. Maybe even with _him_.

That pair of blue eyes he possessed would have agreed with her. She'd been contemplating them all day, their varying tones and shades serving as a slight distraction while she tended the bar during the lunch hour and sifted through computer documents for a while. It had been a substantial waste of time, but one that kept her smiling like a fool for the duration of business hours and well into closing time. She was currently biting back that same grin when the soft chime of her phone caught her attention.

Henry: Just finished watching Star Wars with August. You were right - his Darth Vader impression is terrible. Do you care if I sleep at his house since you're working late? He said we could break out one of the older sequels.

She smiled at the screen, thankful for her brotherly business partner and his willingness to hang out so regularly with her son. She hated missing out, but it made her happy to know that Henry had a standing guy's night with one of the best men she knew - well, except when they used that time to conspire against her.

Emma: No, that's fine. Just make sure you don't encourage him too much. It took me two years to get him to stop telling me to 'use the force' whenever I had to lift a heavy box in the back room at the bar. Do anything fun today?

Henry: Picked up some new books at the library with Killian today. He sent one home for you too.

 _What the hell,_ Emma thought silently as her fingers tapped the keys. When had Mr. Bestseller become thick as thieves with her son? She bit her lip gently, trying to decide what emotion she was supposed to feel at the information Henry had just offered. It didn't take long for the inexplicably giddy feeling to win out.

Emma: That sounds like an interesting way to spend your afternoon. Anything good?

Her mind dashed through the possibilities of what text that literary man could have selected for her now. He'd already done his fair share of damage with Salinger and that unexpected gesture.

Henry: I guess you'll have to see and decide yourself! August said I could go with him and Ruby to the diner to eat so I'm going to head over there. Is that okay?

God, of _course_ her son would be vague regarding her curiosity. Now it was rather obvious he'd spent a fair amount of time with Killian earlier that day - he was acting _just_ like him.

Emma: Sure thing, kid. I'll see you tomorrow. Love you.

Setting her phone down on the bar, Emma's fingers grew anxious as her mind turned back to the books - _his_ book, to be more specific. She hadn't finished it yet of course - she'd been opting to spend her free time with the writer of the mysterious text instead. It was an intricately woven story from what she has seen up to this point, one that seemed rooted and coveted by the man with the pen. It didn't matter if he was describing the scene of a tragic shipwreck or the emotion in the protagonist's eyes when he accounted for what he'd lost - Killian Jones had an unbelievably _beautiful_ way with words. What she had been able to go through was almost perplexing, filling her head with questions she couldn't wait to ask him - supposing she'd get the chance.

As scary as it could be, she truly wanted the opportunity.

She'd barely settled with that knowledge and allowed the truth of it to cause the curve of her lips when the ring of the bar's landline made her jump, the legs of the stool squeaking on the floor. A quick check of the wall clock made her wonder who might be calling at such a time, but the subtle thumping of her heart made her realize she probably already knew.

"H-Hello?"

God, could she sound any _more_ nervous? She shook her head at her insecurity as she waited for a reply.

"Ah, so you _do_ answer the phone - even after hours. Glad to see the customer service is looking up, Swan."

His tone was light and happy sounding as his accent encompassed what was surely a devastatingly handsome smirk. Emma fought back her own smile as she wondered how she could read him like that, especially over the phone. It didn't matter truly - she _liked_ being able to decipher the man behind the book. Killian Jones was a puzzle of the most addictive, tempting kind.

"I'm glad to see you've taken it upon yourself to give us a review," she teased in return. "Although I'm fortunately not at much risk - the pubs around here are pretty limited."

"So I've learned," he laughed. "In fact, there's only a few other places in town where a guy can procure a drink."

"Now _this_ I'd love to hear about," Emma replied, folding her arms over the bar top. "Have you managed to get on Granny's bad side already? You shouldn't burn your bridges there - it's the only other establishment that serves decent alcohol."

"True, although I've yet to sample any of that," he commented. "I don't know if I dare - the looks that woman gave me over a coffee order today makes me think she might be a _little_ more hands-on if I tried to order a pint at a later hour."

"Yeah, she probably had quite a field day with another Brit in town," Emma mused. "You'll have to ask Robin about that one."

"Duly noted, love," he said in that sultry tone. "Then there's always the docks, but that's a 'bring your own rum' situation and usually lands me with an unsolicited chaperone. I suppose I should say do _not_ ask Rob about that one."

"Sounds like you're at a crossroads."

"Aye," he replied. " _Unless_ …."

His voice drifted off, a hint of hope on the end of his abandoned sentence. Emma furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, but was brought out of it quickly when she heard the subtle knock on the large window where the business sign was confirming that the bar was indeed not open. A smile found her lips before she looked over her shoulder at the man standing behind the glass.

"Unless….I let you in, Jones?"

"Maybe I was in the neighborhood?"

"Hmmm," Emma said, tilting her head sideways as she moved to stand. " _Were_ you?"

"How about you let me in-" he smirked, raising an eyebrow as his breath hung in the cold night air. "-and I'll tell you?"

She didn't miss the double meaning of his request - in fact, it was the exact reason she walked so slowly toward the window. He did look a bit chilled, the tips of his ears pink and his coat collar popped up to keep him warm. His eyes were a bright crystal blue, even in the early darkness of the night and his lips were pressed in the perfectly kissable position. She realized in that instant just how much she'd allowed herself to miss him in just the span of a day - so what the _hell_ was she supposed to do when he was gone for longer than that?

"Pretty confident that I'd be working late, Jones," she said, smiling curiously at him. "Should I be worried about where you get your information?"

"While Henry and August _did_ mention you'd be here," he laughed, the sound audible even through the glass barrier. "Perhaps I would have wandered over anyway."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"Well, maybe I wanted to see if the top shelf was open-" he continued, grinning a little more when she pulled open the adjacent door. "-but mostly to see if the woman who monitors it would be open to some company."

"It's nice to see you too, Killian."

His dimples went deep as he descended forward, his frigid hands cupping the sides of her face as he pulled her into a kiss that he seemed to need as much as she did. His touch was unexpectedly icy, but as his mouth parted and he breathed her in, Emma felt her entire body grow hot enough to rid herself of chills. One of his hands moved to tangle in her hair as the other rested on her jaw, helping them navigate the kiss as his tongue brushed hers. The moan that left her throat wasn't intentional, but the low growl he matched it with probably wasn't either. Her hands pressed lightly on his chest as Emma settled with the fact that she could kiss this man for _hours_ and with the idea that she should definitely give that theory a try.

"See, now _that_ -" he said softly, pulling back as his fingers trailed to her chin. "-is the right way to distract me from my request for a quality beverage, love."

"Well," she smiled, pressing her forehead lightly to his. "Did it work?"

"It would appear so," he nodded, tickling her back. "You're rather skilled at that, love."

"At distracting you?"

"Well, yes, _that_ for sure," he laughed, pulling back to catch her dazed eyes. "But I was talking more about getting me to go after what I want."

The fire building in that cobalt blue gaze told her that he was definitely talking more about the 'who' rather than the 'what' with that sentence. The words were there, lingering between them - the hopeful scene where she could ask him to stay and he'd concede. Emma felt the gravity shift under her feet as she contemplated the statement and how it might change everything about the moment. She wasn't sure how long they stood like that, analyzing one another like some unknown novel that could be interpreted numerous ways. She wouldn't have minded doing so for longer, but even in the short time she'd known this man, she knew exactly where _that_ would lead.

She bit her lip gently, trying not to think about the bar behind her as _anything_ but a place for serving drinks and sorting bills. Yes, _that_ is what she was _supposed_ to be focused on.

"So," she sighed, blinking lazily. "What exactly _do_ you want?"

"I had hoped it might be rather obvious, love," he answered with that soft smirk that seemed to arrive like clockwork. "I wanted to see you. The rest doesn't really matter, does it?"

She'd spent so much time that day convincing herself that it _did_ matter - that he was leaving and that it was going to hurt like hell when he did. Right now though, as he stood in front of her in the middle of the dimly lit bar, she didn't want to think about a time when he wouldn't be there to kiss her like that. She didn't want to spend any more time missing him while he was still there.

"No," she said softly, a little surprised at the slight smile that overtook her. "It doesn't."


End file.
